


This is a Tricky Situation

by LetMeEntertainKink (LetMeEntertainYou)



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-08-20 07:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainKink
Summary: John likes to plan his life play by play. His agendas are filled to the brim with every little thing he's done, has to do and needs to get done. Schedules aren't bullet proof though. They can't possibly capture the tumultuous, unpredictable nature of life. John and Roger are confronted with that fact after a life changing phone call from the doctors office. Together, they navigate pregnancy and child rearing, all while balancing their lives in Queen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. If you don't like it, don't read it, PLEASE. Don't leave mean comments. It's weird, trust me, I get you.  
2\. I don't want minors reading this. Please don't read this. Don't break my heart.  
3\. This will be a series. 10-ish chapters. I'll update maybe one a week-ish. Kinda.   
4\. There will be smut eventually.   
5\. My tumblr is InHopeIBreathe.  
Let's begin.

It was December. Cold, damp and grey as always. That wasn’t something new. It wasn’t something John had to grapple with to understand.

In December, it was cold, foggy and mushy. It’ll rain, maybe snow, things will grow brown and shrivel and seeing your breath condense before your very eyes was routine.

John quite enjoyed his routines. He had many. It was the best way his logical mind could organize his days. With schedules and filled planners. And in his agenda for the month of December, he wrote down, buy new wellies. Clean parka. Find snow shovel.

That’s all. Besides Christmas and New Year’s, that was all he had planned.

His stomach churned violently, causing him to hug his middle. He leaned against the wall, eyes screwing shut, his breath puffing out into the night air like little clouds. What was taking Roger so damn long in there?

They’d been at Freddie’s house at the bequest of Brian. Still high off the fumes of their successful Sheer Heart Attack tour, he wanted to informally discuss plans for the next album. Tone, goal, vision. It was still all vague, but they did have recording dates. The following summer. It was very like Brian to be a helicopter par- to hover. He liked hovering.

John coughed anxiously, hugging himself tighter.

He couldn’t focus in there. While Freddie gestured wildly and Roger laughed and Brian scribbled things down, John could only think about the agendas he’d have to burn. Plans that were to be scrapped. The future that seemed disturbingly close. After contributing next to nothing, once things settled down, he zipped his way out the door, whispering at Roger to follow him. Roger just waggled his eyebrows at him and continued his goodbyes. He forgot to say his.

It didn’t matter. He needed to talk to the blond _right now_.

John’s heart froze painfully when Freddie’s front door open, the sound of Roger chuckling ringing in the icy air. _Fuck_, was what John thought. It felt too real. _Damnit_.

Roger waved to the two guys still inside, smiling to himself as he walked down the driveway, looking from side to side for John, who was supposed to be out there too.

Quickly, John emerged from the shadows, clinging to Roger’s side. Sweat was unexplainably forming on his forehead, his hands cold, but not from the temperature outside.

“Shit!” Roger said with a jump. What fear he had quickly melted, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face, his hands finding John’s waist. “Horny, are you? Couldn’t even bid your mates farewell, huh? Too inpatient for my cock?” Roger purred. His eyes looked beautiful glittering in the twilight.

But John shook him off, hissing, “_No_.”

Roger understood John’s denial enough to lead him to his car, John slipping into his passenger seat stiffly.

Roger hopped into the driver seat, turning on the car, the warmth from the heater doing nothing to relax John. He continued to hug himself, eyes in his lap.

“Sorry about that, Deacy. I wasn’t thinking. They could’ve seen us. But I can drive us a ways and park so we can-“ Whatever Roger had to say was cut off by John exploding.

“Jesus Christ, Roger! Can’t you read the mood? I don’t want to fucking shag you right now!” he yelled, his cheeks flushing crimson.

Roger’s eyes widened, leaning back in his seat defensively. John sighed, rubbing his face.

“Fuck. Sorry. Roger, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Really,” John said, much quieter and meeker now. His shoulders slumped.

Roger moved cautiously closer to John who was never the explosive type. “Care to share what’s bothering you then?” he almost whispered, wanting to pat John’s back, but deciding against it. What if he was the reason John was so volatile?

John laughed at the question. And then his eyes watered. He wasn’t in control of his emotions at the moment. He felt scared and vulnerable and horrible and sick and queasy. Very queasy. His stomach groaned as bile rose in his throat.

Roger just carefully watched John cycle through at least 10 different emotions, his insides knotting up every second John didn’t talk.

John thought about planners and schedules and how all of them could never really organize one’s life. They could only account for so much. Human error was their downfall. Mistakes. Unplanned things. Accidents. Uh-oh’s.

Without thinking, the words tumbled from his mouth, much like the vomit from that morning. “I think I’m pregnant.”

The car was quiet. It felt 4 degrees despite the heater. They could hear the wind outside and the sound of two hearts thrumming.

“P…Pregnant...?” Roger intelligently asked.

John nodded.

His eyes misted up again. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You…are you...how do you…why do you think that?” Roger struggled to say.

John recounted his maladies. “Throwing up a ton. I feel like I have the flu but no sneezing and stuff like that. Just achy and sore. And uh,” he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “My um nipples,” John whispered, embarrassed even though Roger had seen him naked and in various compromising positions. “They’re all, sensitive and stuff.” He couldn’t look the other in the eye, preferring to stare out the window at the cloudy night sky. John could see his own reflection staring back at him. He ignored that too.

Still in shock, his mind blank, Roger continued to ask questions. “And um…Have you gone to the doctor?”

“This morning. They said they’d call me Friday with the results.” That was the worst experience John ever had peeing in a cup. Even with a full bladder, he developed a sudden case of pee shyness, all by himself in the doctor’s bathroom.

Roger nodded, his eyes unfocused. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. Uh, I’ll come over Friday then. Um. Well. If…you are, how…h-how sure are you that it’d be...mine?”

John visibly cringed, his ears tinged pink. “Rog, you’re the only one.”

Although they were only friends with benefits, John’s words made Roger blow out a puff of relieved air. He wasn’t sure why and didn’t want to know.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll come by Friday then. That’s fine. This is fine. Don’t worry too much, Deacy. Okay? This’ll be fine,” Roger said, talking as if he were trying to convince himself of the sentiment, rather than John. John nodded.

“Mhm. It’s a …plan. I’ll be going now. Home,” John said, suddenly feeling an oppressive way of awkward hit him. He opened the door, ready to crawl out when Roger touched his shoulder. He looked back, Roger’s eyes big and glittery.

John smiled, something small and shy. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Roger’s lips. Although just friends, they fancied kissing like lovers. Pulling away feeling a tiny bit better, he got out of Roger’s car, walking to his own.

Roger rolled down the window and called out, “Goodnight, Deaks! Don’t worry. See you Friday.”

“Yeah.”

John wasn’t so sure.

♚

“God, do these people have any respect? It’s well bloody past noon!” Roger said as he paced around John’s flat, anger being how he showed his anxiety best.

John was curled up on the couch, a pillow hugged to his sensitive stomach, cowering being his way to show his anxiety.

Despite their drastically different presentations, all they wanted was for that phone perched on the kitchen wall to ring. Defiantly, it stood silent.

“You sure you gave them the right number?” Roger asked, his hands balled into fists.

John only groaned, curling up further until his face disappeared. Roger really wasn’t helping with the apprehension, but John figured if anything came of it, he should be there to know first.

“This is practically torture! We could sue. I mean r-“

“_Rogerrr._ Please. Shut up. Come sit with me or something. Get me an antacid. Something. Stop talking. Please,” John whined. It’d be real nice if Roger would shut the hell up and hold him. Because whatever Roger was feeling, John was feeling it tenfold.

If that test came back positive, it was John who’d go through the most changes. His body, his home, his career, his life. His heart stopped every time he thought about it.

When Roger sat down next to him, piling up John in his arms, for a minute, John could forget about everything. Just a minute.

Because the phone rang.

“You get it,” John sputtered, his eyes wide with terror. The whole room began to spin and dip. He couldn’t breathe.

Roger was ghostly pale and unusually quiet and submissive. He just nodded, got up and padded to the kitchen, as if he was in no rush to get the phone. He disappeared behind the kitchen wall, forcing John to have to listen hard.

The phone clicked as Roger picked it up off the receiver. “Hullo?...This is him, yes…Mhm…Yeah….Okay…Thank you.”

John was trembling by the end of the minute-long conversation. Roger’s voice gave away nothing as he spoke.

Roger walked back into the room, the color returned to his face. John took that as a hopeful sign.

“It was negative, wasn’t it?” he asked, sitting up, wanting nothing more than pure relief to soothe his shaking limbs.

Roger’s mouth opened and then closed. He shook his head. “We’re having a baby.”

John could only hear the rushing of blood in his ears. His mind went completely blank. His mouth hung open. His eyes went vacant.

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be true.

This couldn’t be how John Deacon’s story went.

Him and his band were on the brink of success. They were so close, he could feel brush against his calloused fingertips.

His papers for his PhD were sitting on his table, ready to be mailed so he could start the program.

John was ready to keep going up. And up and up.

This wasn’t it. This wasn’t it at all.

“Hey.”

John jumped, not realizing Roger was now sitting next to him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. With a wave of tears rushing out from his eyes, he looked over to the drummer, scared out of his mind.

“Roger,” he croaked, feeling as though he’d crumble in on himself at any second.

Roger wrapped his arms around John tight, pulling him into his warmth and safety. “It’s okay,” he whispered into John’s hair over and over while John just shook and sniffled, trying desperately to gather himself but continuously unable to do so, falling further apart at each attempt.

“I’m so sorry,” John stuttered out, his fingers digging into Roger’s back, clinging onto him like a life jacket.

“Hush. It’s not your fault. It happens. I’m not mad. Not at all.”

“N-No. I’ve ruined our plans. Future. So sorry, Rog. God. _God_.”

Roger frowned, pulling John into his lap, trying to get him as close as possible. One of his hands stroked John’s long hair, the other wrapped around him tightly.

“It takes two to tango, okay? It’s not anymore your fault than it is mine. Let’s get that abundantly clear, Deacy. Don’t blame yourself, ‘cuz I won’t have any of it,” Roger said softly, wiping some of John’s tears from his cheek.

John blubbered something incoherent before sighing shakily, burying his face into Roger’s neck. Mumbling into Roger’s skin, he said, “We’re royally fucked.”

Roger snorted, more out of anxiety than humor. It was true. He’d never admit it out loud though. That was the last thing John needed to hear right now.

“No, we’re not. I said everything would be okay, didn’t I? And you know how I loathe to break promises. We’ll figure this out. We’ll make it work and it’ll be fantastic. Really.”

John looked up at him, his grey eyes stormy and tinged red. “How?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I…We have so much ahead of us. I mean, what’ll happen to Queen? We can’t be rock stars with a baby.”

“Course we can. We can figure it out. We’re smart, aren’t we?” Roger said, his own heart beating too fast to be comfortable.

John shook his head, scooting out of Roger’s lap. “You keep saying all those nice words but there’s no substance behind them. I mean, Roger, we’re gonna be recording an album soon. And I’ll be,” he paused to count in his head, “In my third trimester by then. Only a month or so post-partum for the tour. And I know you wanted to start looking into solo stuff too. And I wanted to start my PhD program by autumn. How do we make it work? I...can’t see any way to make this work,” John said, his voice growing weaker and weaker as he spoke.

Roger was quiet for a minute, idly playing with his belt buckle. He didn’t want to let John down. He was his best friend, after all.

“There’s adoption,” he said almost too quietly for John to hear. “Or…”

John shivered. “No. I’m not going to one of those chop shops. People die all the time. No. No.” John said firmly, repulsed at the idea of visiting a back-alley doctor. He heard the stories. He didn’t want to be another fatality.

“I agree. I just didn’t know if that was something you were considering.” Roger said with a wave of his hand. He wasn’t really sure about anything, any option they had. They all sounded bad. One thing he was sure of was changing condom brands after this.

John suddenly stood up, pacing some around the room. He chewed on his fingernail, his eyebrows furrowed as he thought. Roger didn’t know what was going on in the bassist’s mind. He hadn’t a clue what was going on in his own mind other than tornadoes and adrenaline.

Roger was pulled from his tumultuous thoughts, his gut blossoming in an array of emotions when he saw John’s hand fly to his stomach, an almost protective quality to the action.

With a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks, John said, “Adoption. I don’t. I don’t think I want that. Does that sound crazy?”

Roger answered almost instantaneously. “Not at all.”

It was a baby. _Their_ baby. Not crazy at all to hesitate at the idea of giving it away.

John looked down at his tummy, flat as a board and gave it a soft rub. It had been some 20 minutes since the news was delivered that he was going to have a baby and only now at the prospect of adopting it out did he feel his body erupt into goosebumps. His chest felt light. His brain woozy. And his tummy, **full**.

“I’m pregnant,” he mouthed to himself, the realization of what that meant hitting him fully. He had life in him. A tiny little speck of life that was both him and Roger. It’d grow bigger and move and kick. It’d have his bones and his blood and his food. Right now, John was growing something inside of him. Something precious.

It wasn’t just about how he couldn’t go back to school. How difficult recording an album with a gigantic belly would be. How Roger might have to put things on hold himself. It was that in some months’ time, there’d be a little boy or girl in his arms who’d need him. And how he’d love it. Love _them_ more than he already did right at this moment, which already seemed overwhelming.

His eyes were wet again, his voice thick. “Roger. This wasn’t planned. I didn’t want this. I’m only 23, you know. I wanted to get my doctorates and see where this whole Queen thing took us. Maybe at 30 try settling down. This isn’t what I wanted.”

Roger’s rib cage tightened.

“But, uh, I keep thinking about nappies. And pacis. And how a purple nursery would be cute.”

Roger nearly fainted with relief.

“I’m scared. Really, really scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen and that terrifies me, Rog. And you know I don’t do good with being scared. I’m also excited. I want this now. I’ll need time to process but right now, I want this,” he finished, nodding nervously, both of his hands now on his tummy.

Roger flew up, picking John up and spinning him.

He was right. This was terrifying. But Roger did well with the unknown. He was impulsive and enjoyed living life on the fly. He could handle this for the both of them.

“We’re going to be daddies, then?” Roger asked, his face bright.

Coyly, John said yes, biting back a smile.

Roger grabbed both of his cheeks, pressing his lips to John’s, electricity running through the both of them. When he pulled away, he began to babble about the future, all the new plans they could make _together_.

“This is brilliant. I mean, I always wanted kids. And wow! We can buy a house together, Deacy. A lovely house in the countryside, ‘cuz you don’t like the city. But close to a school! And we’ll make the most beautiful nursery. Brian’s good with wood, he can make stuff too! And oh! We’ll get married too an-“ Roger’s daydreaming was cut short.

“Married? We don’t have to get married,” John said, leaning away from Roger, his lips pulled back ever so slightly in disgust.

“Of course, we do, John. It’ll make things easier. Don’t even worry about it. Things won’t have to change between us,” Roger said, his hands still holding onto John’s waist.

John wriggled free from Roger, his body becoming stiff. “But we don’t. If things won’t change between us with a baby, I don’t see why we’d have to get married.”

Roger took John’s tentativeness as another fear of the unknown. “It’s not about us anymore. It’ll be for the baby. Give it more rights and protections. Like a legal promise between us to put them first,” he said as convincingly as a car salesman.

John hugged himself, taking steps away from Roger. “Roger, I get it. I do, but I don’t want to get married. I don’t- I think it’s too much too soon. I don’t want that. No. No.”

Roger’s head cocked, the joy melting off his face. “But, John, this is how I can help. I know it’s a lot, but things won’t have to change. It’ll just be for the baby. Nothing else. You don’t have to worry,” he said, trying to reach John who only shuffled farther away from him.

John liked his plans. He liked his routines. It was the only way he could navigate and handle the chaotic world around him. One gigantic mistake was already shifting plans considerably. He couldn’t deal with another. Not right now. The room felt tiny around him.

“You help by changing nappies. Midnight feedings. Not with a license. Roger, please. _Please_. I can’t. I don’t want to be a Taylor. I don’t want to marry you,” he said with a quivering voice, his stomach churning dangerously.

“Think of the press, John. You don’t think they’ll have a field day with you being unwed? What about your mum? You think she’d want you to go what she went through?” Roger asked. They were genuine questions. Something John hadn’t thought of.

It still struck a nerve.

“Shut up!” John barked, his skin growing cherry red. He wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t! He wasn’t! Roger didn’t have to bring his mother into this! He wasn’t going to do it and that was final!

John gagged and gurgled into his hand, “I have to puke,” before running out of the living room to do just that.

In a daze, Roger followed him to at least hold back his hair, but as John retched over the toilet, he slapped him away. He didn’t want to see the blond right now. The world was moving too fast and Roger had his foot on the gas pedal. He could at least leave him alone to empty his stomach contents.

And alone he was.

After 5 minutes of dry heaving, with not even any acid to throw up, John fell back onto his heels, wiping his mouth, his flat deathly quiet. He rinsed his mouth and splashed water onto his face, venturing out of the bathroom to look around.

It was quiet because Roger had left.

A pang seized his heart.

With shaky hands and blurring vision from tears, he locked the door to his flat, sat on the floor and cried.

This was already too hard for him to deal with.

All the more reason to know it was a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed to no one in particular, clutching at his chest, praying for his heart to still.

John really did enjoy his schedules. You couldn’t have a panic attack with a perfectly curated agenda.


	2. It's a Long Hard Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not feeling it, hm? That’s fine, sweetie. We can go home. I have a question though,” he said, his voice gentle. He sat on the chair next to John’s, ignoring how stiff John went when he scooted in closer. Leaning in until his breath tickled John’s ear, he whispered, “How far along are you?”  
John reeled, nearly falling off his chair. His eyes went big and wild, his head shaking quickly. “No. No! That’s ridiculous, Freddie! Me? No!” he stammered as his brain sent out sparks and his mind went blank. How did he know? How in the hell did he know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every week-ish  
My tumblr is InHopeIBreathe  
Uhhhh. Mama hen freddie ready 2 attack.

The lights were dim, the air filled with nicotine and musk. Everywhere he looked, there were people, laughing, drinking, smoking, dancing. A horde of them writhed and swayed on one on the dance floor, while a few tipsy stragglers stumbled about the pub, fumbling for coins to put into the jukebox. Disco thrummed through the creaky floorboards and above all else, the night was young.

John sighed softly to himself, returning his gaze to the sticky table before him, his hand clutching a weeping glass of club soda. He took a few sips, hoping to settle his gurgling stomach before looking back at the crowd of people having fun. Careless and free. His feet itched to get up on the dance floor and regain his title as the Dancing Queen. Take a few swigs of whatever was floating around and groove until his shoes had holes burned into them or they got kicked out. Whichever came first.

But now, instead of acting wild like he did most Saturday nights, John hid in a corner, praying he didn’t puke or start crying. Both options seemed pretty viable, but he had to keep a straight face around-

“Deacy! Look what I’ve bought us. Some liquid gold,” Freddie said, proudly carrying two pints of beer. “I even got you your favorite. Heineken!” he said as he placed them onto the table.

If John were any good at acting, he would’ve smiled. His nose wrinkling, shoulders cringing perhaps weren’t exactly what Freddie expected as a response.

“What? I’m trying to cheer you up, love! I even paid for it,” Freddie said with a little frown that quickly faded after he took a swig from his mug. “See, instant cheer-er upper!”

While John couldn’t disagree with the notion, for very obvious reasons he had to decline.

He didn’t even want to be here in the first place. Freddie came by to his flat that morning to drop off some clothes and perhaps the misery leaking out of John was too apparent to dismiss. With a dramatic twirl and a royal wave of his hand, Freddie declared they’d be going out that night to sweat away all that sadness. He didn’t even ask what had John down, which was very much appreciated since John was not remotely ready to tell the truth. Not that it mattered anyways. John couldn’t say no. Freddie never took no for an answer.

So now, here he was. A pregnant man in a pub (a mortal sin on its own), trying to skillfully refuse a beer, which he so desperately wanted but knew he couldn’t have. And to top it all off, John’s not a good actor. Has that been mentioned before?

“I- uh- well, thank you, Freddie, but, um, I drove us here and all. I’d want to stay sober,” John said, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes crinkled a bit.

It wasn’t convincing. “It’s just one, John. To loosen you up some. You’re so tense, darling!” Freddie plopped his beer down onto the table, making a show of massaging John’s shoulder. John let him but nonchalantly slide the beer away from himself. With how despondent he was over Friday’s news and fallout, he wouldn’t tempt himself.

“No, really, Fred. I’m fine. Not in that kind of mood,” John said, an awkward laugh bubbling in his chest. Freddie stopped his somewhat aggressive massaging, his head tilting ever so slightly as his dark eyes took in John. Only for a moment. He quickly shifted back into his partying mode, chirping excitedly, “More beer for me then!”

John let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Will you at least dance with me, sad man?” Freddie said, making an obnoxious pout, holding out a hand for John to grab. John acquiesced.

Freddie squealed and pulled John into the mass of bodies, spinning the younger man around, making a point to show off his dancing machine of a friend.

♚

John panted, wiping sweat from his forehead as he wobbled back to his table, his feet uncharacteristically sore. There were nights he could go until the sunrise if they let him. Ever since he got pregnant, even the most mundane of activities left him craving a nap and yearning to be in bed by 9pm. It was only 10 but John was exhausted. Utterly done for.

He collapsed into a chair and chugged his club soda, his stomach not too happy. His hand went to stroke his tummy but froze, remembering he had to act normal.

Act normal.

Because he was pregnant, and his one best friend wasn’t talking to him anymore and his other best friend had not even a single clue about what was happening.

He bit his lip, willing away the need to cry, although the control he had over his emotions seemed to be getting worse and worse as the hormones flooded his system.

John sat on his hand instead, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. He wanted to go home.

“You snuck away from me,” Freddie said, scaring the hell out of John who didn’t even know he had found him.

John sat up straight, smiling meekly. “Yeah, sorry. I’m not really feeling it tonight, Fred. I want to go home,” he admitted, his free hand playing with a lock of his hair.

Freddie looked down at John from where he stood, taking in a good long stare of the bassist before he too started playing with some of John’s hair.

“Not feeling it, hm? That’s fine, sweetie. We can go home. I have a question though,” he said, his voice gentle. He sat on the chair next to John’s, ignoring how stiff John went when he scooted in closer. Leaning in until his breath tickled John’s ear, he whispered, “How far along are you?”

John reeled, nearly falling off his chair. His eyes went big and wild, his head shaking quickly. “No. No! That’s ridiculous, Freddie! Me? No!” he stammered as his brain sent out sparks and his mind went blank. How did he know? How in the _hell_ did he know?

Freddie simply rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, waiting patiently for John to end his useless babbling. Which finished a lot quicker than he had anticipated.

With red flushing his cheeks and a deep shame settling into his gut, John shut up for a moment, looking down into his lap. He didn’t picture his pregnancy announcement looking like this. He hadn’t pictured it at all actually, but if he had, it definitely wouldn’t have looked like this.

He cleared his throat, his eyes misting over some. Quietly, he asked, “How’d you figure it out?”

“A mother just knows these things, Deacy,” Freddie said gently, tucking some of John’s hair back so it didn’t cover his face. Also, John looked entirely dismal, yet he had a faint glow to him. Obvious giveaway.

“Can I take you home tonight? We need to talk, don’t we?” he asked, his fingertips smoothing over John’s jawline, a reassuring and nurturing air to it.

John nodded, his nose already running from the tears he’d yet to shed.

♚

John sat awkwardly on Freddie’s couch, a tissue box next to him, hiccupping as he calmed down from another bout of sobbing. He’d only been there 20 minutes, cried two times and has said absolutely nothing. He couldn’t get it out without another wail wracking through him. It was too much. It was all too much.

Freddie was in the kitchen, drying off his tear stained shirt and bringing back some juice and biscuits. Probably for himself since keeping anything down these days was difficult and these carpets were too lovely to soil.

“There we go,” Freddie said as he entered the room, a tray in hand filled with snacks and drinks. He set it down on the end table before returning to his spot, snuggled up to John, his thin arms almost not enough to hold the quivering terrified little thing that was his best friend.

“You think you’re ready to talk?” he cooed, rubbing John’s forearm, looking over at him with his tender honey dark eyes. John wished he could just lay like this forever, staring into them. No worries, no future.

Time didn’t care to honor such a wish. So, after blowing his nose on a tissue, he nasally replied, “I think so.”

“Um, well, a few weeks ago I started feeling odd. Like I had a cold, but just the general body aches and pains. No fevers or anything,” John started, nuzzling further into Freddie’s side, as if trying to hide.

“It didn’t go away though. It got worse. Started to vomit and all that. I really thought I caught a bug or something. Went to the doctor last week and when they asked if I was pregnant, I…I didn’t know! It was a miracle I could pee into the cup with how nervous I was,” he said, laughing a little as he remembered the struggle he had with that damned cup. Freddie chuckled, squeezing John gently.

“Yeah, and uh, they called Friday with uh. The news, I guess. I was- I mean I am..uh…” It felt bad saying it. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore and the word was just the final nail in his coffin.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant, Deacy. My god. Never thought I’d be saying that,” Freddie mumbled, using two fingers to rub his temples. He always thought his sleazy self would be the first to get knocked up. He guessed he underestimated the _supposedly_ shy and timid John.

“Y-Yeah. That. P-um, Pregnant.” It tasted vile on his tongue. The word. He shuddered. Freddie held him tighter.

“I’m going to assume this is an occasion to celebrate with how glad you sound,” Freddie said sarcastically, his lips pulled tight. John sighed, his head dropping.

“I don’t even know, Fred. Really. I’m so confused. I’m young and headed places. You’d think I’d make this easy on myself and-“ Although the P word was difficult to enunciate, the word, _get rid of it_, were impossible to get out.

John felt Freddie’s hand lay itself against his tummy, still flat and firm but soon to be brimming with life. He gave it a soft rub. “It’s your baby, Deacy. Why on earth would you want to give it away? You love the tiny bean already, don’t you?” he whispered, splaying out his fingers so it took up more of John’s belly.

John choked on a sob. He did so much. His chest was always so warm, his arms feeling somehow empty. It’s been only 2 days since he learned he was with child and he already loved them **_irrevocably_**.

“I do,” John mouthed, his cheeks now wet. He did. He did. He did.

Freddie wiped some of John’s tears away, a futile effort. He kissed the top of John’s head and said, “It’s fine then, sweet boy. You’ll make it work. We all will. We’ll push mountains for this little one. A little Queen.”

John bawled for the third time that night, Freddie rocking him soothingly. It scared him. This love. It superseded everything else. It made him want to throw plans and expectations away. It made him want to accept every challenge and struggle he’d face. He didn’t care if his mother would cry or if the tabloids would rip him apart. His heart were set on bringing something beautiful home from the hospital in a few months.

He sniffled and dabbed at his eyes, leaning away from Freddie only to sip on some juice. He really wasn’t enjoying these crying fits.

He reclined back against the couch, exhaling deeply. “Thank you so much, Freddie,” he said, letting his head loll to look over at the older and smile. Freddie grinned back, clearly happy he was allowed to be excited now. He loved babies! So squishy!

“No problem, love. I’m so happy for you. I’m not sure about your other pals, but that baby is going to be spoiled rotten in Queen. Just you wait,” Freddie said with a giggle, already thinking about toys and clothes. His smile abruptly dropped, a nervous twitch at the corner of his eye. He looked around nervously before asking, “The father. Do you know how it is? It’s alright if you’re a bit of a whore like your Mother Mercury over here. It wouldn’t matter to me, you know.”

John wanted to burst into crazed laughter and at the same time, start belligerently screaming. He chose to go pale, a fair compromise if you asked him.

He wasn’t a whore, but he kind of wished he was right now.

“I…I know him…” he said, the hair on his body standing up as his mind flashed to the image of his empty flat, no one to be found.

“Oh, you do? Have you told him? Do you think he’d be a good dad? Is he even a good person?” There was a hint of delight in Freddie’s eyes. A gossiper at heart, as always.

John could have said anything, but his tongue and lips started moving on their own accord, producing this stunner of an answer. “Do you think Roger’d be a good dad?”

Freddie blinked. And then he blinked again. And then one more time for good measure. His face pulled into something resembling horror, his chest puffing up in shock.

“R-Roger?” Freddie asked, terrified he knew which Roger they were talking about.

“Yes,” John said meekly.

“Which Roger?”

“Roger Taylor,” John said, a little too easily.

“Roger Taylor? Our Roger Taylor? Queen’s Roger Taylor? Drummer Roger Taylor?”

“Yeah. That’s the one who did it,” John said, for some reason enjoying the look on Freddie’s face.

“You _and_ Roger…are going to have a baby…together?” Freddie asked incredulously.

“A little bit.”

“Holy shit, John! You two were dating behind everyone’s backs?”

John shot up from the couch, shaking his head so hard his hair swung all around. “No! Not that at all!”

“It was a one-night stand then? Jesus H fucking Christ!” Freddie was panicking. Freddie was no good when he panicked.

“Not that either! It was more like…a few nights…for a few years,” John’s voice trailed off. He remembered the night after a practice, Roger pushing him against a wall, growling something about being tired of the tension before kissing him roughly. He had to stop the daydream there. Not only was there no time to be horny, Roger for all intents and purposes was dead to him.

“Friends with benefits? Oh my god, John. I never even noticed. How in the bloody hell did I miss that?” Freddie’s fingers were raking through his hair, his eyes big, as if this was _his_ issue.

“Guess mums don’t know everything, huh?”

Freddie deadpanned and rolled his eyes. “You two are petulant children. Know that. Christ. Okay, then. What’s the plan?”

John’s smug smile faded, an internal mantra of ‘_Don’t Cry’_ starting up in his head. John prayed the next time he told someone he was pregnant that there would be a lot less sniveling.

Freddie didn’t find John’s silence too pleasing. “Do **not** tell me Roger was mad about it. Because I’ll kick his ass until my foot takes up permanent residence in his colon. He has _no_ exc-“

John cut him off. “He wasn’t mad, Freddie,” his voice was thick. “He was happy. So happy. He wants kid, you know. He was happy.” He grabbed a tissue, hoping to dry the tears before they fell.

“What’s wrong then? What happened?”

The bassist hid his face behind his hand. Through grit teeth, fighting the urge to shriek, he said, “He wants to get married. I don’t. Too much, too fast. He didn’t like that. Left me alone. Hasn’t answered my phone calls. Won’t open his _fucking_ door.”

Knocking on Roger’s door Saturday morning was difficult. Hearing footsteps approaching the peephole and then nothing…that was soul tearing. He spent the rest of the day howling so loud, his flat neighbors banged on the walls for him to shut up. He pushed the memory down and down until he was back in the present.

John had never seen Freddie so livid. One minute he was listening intently and the next, he was seconds away from spitting fire. Freddie’s eyebrow arched, his mouth going taut into something snarl like, his face a blazing red. His fingers drummed against his knees and his every joint locked.

Freddie genuinely lost it for a moment before he swallowed it all down, forcing composure onto himself. There was all the time in the world to pull out his hair and more importantly, hunt down an extremely mind-numbingly idiotic drummer. John needed love, comfort and support right now. He needed to feel protected. Freddie could only imagine the amount of stress he was under.

“He’s acting like that, is he?” Freddie asked, stroking his chin. Roger was a dumbass, but he never thought he could possibly be that daft. John can’t even handle changing his brand of boxers. Why did Roger think he could consent to raising a baby _and_ marriage all at once? It didn’t matter what marriage could bring to the table. It’s the fact that Roger wanted changes and he wanted them fast, which was the antithesis to John’s very essence.

John weakly nodded. It was killing him being ignored by Roger. He wanted to take everything back. He wanted to make Roger happy. He needed his best friend there and he _wasn’t_.

“That’s fine. I’ll take care of this. You can’t be worried any more than you are. It’ll hurt the baby,” Freddie said, his nose held up, something definitive to it.

John clutched his stomach but shook his head. “No, Fred. I-I’m an adult. I should be the one to handle this. I can do it. I’m big.”

Freddie smiled lovingly, cupping one of John’s cheeks. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m your best friend, aren’t I? You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll talk to him. I’m only now privy to the depth of you and Roger’s relationship but I know two things about you, Deacy,” His smile turned sad. “One is you can’t say no to Roger. I’ve seen it. He walks on you like a mat sometimes, John. If you talk to him, you’ll say yes. I bet you’ve already thought about agreeing, haven’t you?” Freddie said.

John would be lying if he said no. He was thinking about saying yes. From the moment Roger left. If he said yes, Roger could come back and everything would be okay.

Freddie understood John’s silence.

“And another thing I know is that you run when things get hard. You run to a different room, a different city. When you get scared, you flee. And if you married Roger, I have a feeling you’d run away after the ceremony. You’d maybe even run away from the baby.”

John thought Scotland looked pretty this time of year. The suitcase by his front door echoed the sentiment. All he’d have to do is throw a golden ring into a river and walk away. Far far away.

“Let me talk to him, okay? Mama can handle this for you. You just sleep and eat and relax. Let me do this for you,” Freddie said, herding John back into his arms. He felt so tiny this time around.

John pressed himself against Freddie’s chest, nodding. Shakily, he whispered, “Please.” He _couldn’t_ do this alone. He wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t firmly plant his feet onto the ground and fight for himself. He needed Freddie more than he thought the singer knew.

“Of course. Absolutely. We’ll fix this and you two can be proud and loving daddies together and me and Brian will be the goofy uncles, and everything will be good again. Trust me,” Freddie cooed, raking his fingers through John’s hair. John was a grown man, but he was sensitive and reserved. A man not yet ready for all that adulthood brought. Freddie vowed to protect him when he was a chipper 19-year-old and he saw no need to break that promise anytime soon. He’d fix this.

The younger grabbed onto Freddie’s shirt, his tears quiet. He didn’t know how to thank Freddie. Perhaps a God daughter or son would do.

“Now that all of that is settled, how about I draw you a bubble bath? You can stay here tonight, I insist. Have a nice bath and sleep with me. I’ve got a new mattress and everything,” Freddie said, his fingers tickling John’s side lightly. His proposition didn’t sound so bad. With pink stained grey eyes, John looked up at him and simpered. Freddie grinned.

♚

That night, in Freddie’s bed, his linens soft on John’s tired skin, Freddie warm on his back, softly snoring against his neck. John felt so safe.

But he always felt the safest with Roger.

He dreamed of lava and the fruit seeds that sprouted from them.


	3. I Try and Mend the Broken Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked pale and his eyes were as wide as saucers. Fear trickled down his forehead like sweat. Good.  
Freddie flashed him a dopey smile which put Roger at ease.  
“Good morning, darling!” Freddie chirped, clapping his hands together.  
“What the hell is this, Fred?” Roger cried, his anger apparent, but his defenses down. Perfect.   
That’s when Freddie lunged for his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!   
So chapters every weekish  
My tumblr is InHopeIBreathe  
Uhhh yeah! Short chap.  
BUT IMPORTANT PLEASE READ  
I'm in the path of Hurricane Dorian. I'm not sure if it'll do much, but if I don't update for a while, assume I was hit and am trying to get things back in order. Don't worry though.

Freddie stood tall and firm in front of the door, his shoulders squared, his chest puffed out. He cleared his throat; thankful he took the time to warm up on his way over here. With all his hair out of his face and his hands balled into fists, he was ready, his stance similar to an opera singer ready to belt out the final chorus to the climax of their ballad.

Although, what Freddie was about to do was in no way stunning or goosebump raising. Nor was it even singing.

At least he’d look beautiful doing it.

He took in a deep breath, his skin tingling with exhilaration.

And then, Freddie started to screech, pounding his fists against the front door.

“ROGER MOTHER FUCKING TAYLOR. OPEN YOUR BLOODY DOOR THIS VERY INSTANT. OPEN THIS DOOR YOU, GORMLESS TWAT. I’VE COME TO BASH YOUR HEAD IN. OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW SO I CAN KILL YOU. I’LL FEED YOUR BONES TO MY CATS, YOU KNOB. ROGER. ROGER, I KNOW YOU HEAR ME. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

Freddie had rehearsed something far more articulate and brutal, but this was fine too. Improvisation never hurt.

He heard scrambling footsteps and confused panicking, which made him bang on the door louder.

“WAKEY WAKEY, ROGER. HURRY UP, YOU HAVEN’T ALL DAY! C’MON! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU N-“ His yelling stopped when the door opened.

Roger was in his boxers and a sweater, clearly rudely awoken from his sleep by Freddie. It was only 7am after all. Intentional.

He looked pale and his eyes were as wide as saucers. Fear trickled down his forehead like sweat. Good.

Freddie flashed him a dopey smile which put Roger at ease.

“Good morning, darling!” Freddie chirped, clapping his hands together.

“What the **_hell_** is this, Fred?” Roger cried, his anger apparent, but his defenses down. Perfect.

That’s when Freddie lunged for his throat.

“ARE YOU COMPLETELY BRAIN DEAD? ARE YOU THAT DUMB? IS IT POSSIBLE THAT YOUR IQ IS ZERO? ROGER, ANSWER ME. HOW BLOODY DUMB ARE YOU?” Freddie screeched, chasing after Roger who ran back into his house, screaming bloody murder.

“Don’t kill me! DON’T KILL ME! Oh my GOD! Help! HELP!” Roger yelped, throwing a pillow in Freddie’s face as he ran around his living room, knowing Freddie was absolutely capable of killing him if given the opportunity. And he was home alone, all his neighbors gone on holiday, so…opportunity given.

Unfortunately for Roger, Freddie had the advantage of coffee and a cold December morning walk on his side. He was wide awake and brimming with agility. He dodged the pillow with finesse, tackling Roger to the floor, who only screamed louder, thrashing wildly. Freddie shoved a hand over his mouth, muffling him.

“Coward! Bastard! Jackass! Bellend! Dick head!” Freddie spat all while straddled atop the frightened drummer. He jabbed a very aggressive finger into Roger’s chest with each abusive word until he ran out of words. Which took a while. 10 minutes almost. Roger was counting.

Freddie suddenly leaned back, his hand slipping away from Roger’s mouth, sighing contentedly. “That was so cathartic, love. I feel better already,” Freddie said, his shoulders slumped.

“**What the fuck, Freddie?** You came all the way to my house to chase after me and curse me out? To feel _better_? _Have you lost your **fucking** mind??_” Roger growled, struggling under Freddie who hadn’t gotten off him yet.

Freddie laughed like he knew something Roger didn’t, wiping his brow with a guffaw.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Roger. I came here because John told me _everything_.”

Roger started shrieking again.

♚

Sitting on a couch, Freddie had his legs elegantly crossed, his chin resting against his hand, his fingers drumming on his cheek, simply waiting for Roger to speak. He wondered how long he’d have to stare at the blond before holes started to burn into his forehead.

On the furthest sitting-like-apparatus Roger could find, a stool all the way back in the living room, Roger sat, a pillow held to his chest defensively, his eyes on the tiled floor. After the initial bone chilling terror faded away (alongside Freddie’s weight on his middle), all he felt was a guilt so heavy, his joints ached.

Roger knew what this conversation would be about. He knew it wouldn’t be fun. He knew his dumbass-ery would be put onto display, despite his few day effort of ignoring it.

And he knew Freddie would just sit there in silence until he talked. Freddie knew him too well. He knew that quiet drove the drummer insane. Freddie would get Roger to talk even if his tongue was covered in spikes.

“Umm…” he intelligently began, not knowing where to begin, what Freddie needed to hear. “So…John’s pregnant,” he faintly garbled out, forcing on a pained, awkward smile.

“Is he?” Freddie said stiffly, an eyebrow raised, as if he were really saying,_ Yeah, no shit, fuckwad._

“Yeah, sorry. Um. Well. Uh…” Roger didn’t consider himself a wimp, but he sure was acting like one right now. He couldn’t get the truth out. To say it out loud was to acknowledge just how badly he fucked everything up. Even thinking about John made his stomach drop well below his feet.

Freddie sighed, his eyes closing briefly. “Nice attempt. A for effort, I suppose,” he said as he readjusted himself on the couch so he was leaning forward, his hands folded in front of him.

“Roger, dear, you made an awful mistake and I want to know why. And I want to help you two fix this, okay? You two are my best friends. I genuinely can’t tolerate the drama. I need you two to be on the same page and I need you two to be friends. For the baby’s sake, at least.”

Roger nodded. He wanted that as well. Of course, he did. These 3 days without John, knowing John was hurting, _killed_ him. And knowing he was the **only** reason why John hurt made him wish he were dead. But he didn’t know how to go about fixing it. It felt too big and far too broken to be mended.

“So, what happened, Rog? He doesn’t want to get married. So, fucking what? You hate the institution of marriage. You say it every bloody chance you get. I thought you of all people would be okay with that,” Freddie said, his eyes growing sharp as he spoke.

Roger shrugged. “Usually, I wouldn’t care. But I’m worried about John. How people will react once the news eventually breaks. Unwed parents aren’t treated so nicely and all,” Roger mumbled, starting to fiddle with a loose thread on his boxers.

Freddie nodded, leaning back on the couch, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied Roger. “Oh, I get it now. You’re concerned about how others will treat him. In fact, so concerned that you ignored him. When he called. When he came over to talk. So worried about how others would treat him, you, his best friend, his _bestest_ friend, left him all alone. Very rational. Excellent, Roger, truly.” Freddie gave Roger a small round of applause for his rationality.

Roger’s heart felt like it collapsed in on itself. His lungs refused to expand. Sweat poured down his back despite the negative 6 temperature outside. He wanted to cry but didn’t. He didn’t have the right to.

“I…I didn’t think of it like that. You’re right,” he choked out, his head on fire.

Freddie didn’t care that he was right for once. “Why’d you do it, Rog? I know you’re as stubborn as a bull, but really? John has something so precious in him that’s for _you_ and you snub him like that? He’s at my house right now. Did you know that? Bent all out of shape. Teetering on full blown panic that could injure the very being this whole fiasco is about. Which one of your principles is so important that’d you risk that?” Freddie said, his voice soft and yet each word dug into Roger’s soul like jagged glass.

Roger coughed until the tears stopped threatening to spill. He shrunk further down where he sat, his mind racing with the thoughts he had been suppressing for some time now. They splattered out into his brain like paint, coating every surface of every thought. It was overwhelming. It ached. It made him want to throw up. But every single one of them, true.

He looked out one of the living room windows at the grey sky and the brown grass and the dried leaves and without thinking, without letting himself panic about the truth, he whispered, “I think I’m in love with John.”

People who loved each other had babies together. People who loved each other got married. People who loved each other kissed one another and held the other and felt warm and nice and in_ love_. Roger wanted to hold John. And kiss him. And rub his belly and tell him the nicest, sweetest things. He has for a while. Before any of this bullshit started. He wanted John to be his and now, there was a way to do it. Selfishly. But a way, nonetheless.

Freddie’s hands flew to his face, a loud slap echoing when they connected with his skin. He breathed out a ‘_Holy shit’_, his head reclining back to look at the ceiling, utter disbelief draining his body.

“Fuck, Roger. You don’t fall for a friend with benefits. That is always _always_ **_always_** going to end badly. Fuck,” Freddie hissed, hands still over his face. This was so much worse than he was expecting. A goddamn soap opera he didn’t want to be a part of.

“I know,” Roger croaked, still looking out the window.

“And I know for a fact he doesn’t love you. Not like that.”

“I know,” Roger said again, his voice cracking pathetically.

“Sorry, Rog,” Freddie said sheepishly, not meaning for his words to come out harsh. “Well, shit, mate. You’re going to have to find yourself a very large diary because you can’t tell John this. He’ll run away to Brazil and we’ll never hear from him again. You understand? You can’t tell him this right now. Later, perhaps, but right now, this has to be our secret,” Freddie said as he sat back up, his eyes flickering as he thought this through.

Roger agreed.

“I know it’s so hard being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back, but you have to be mature about this. No more ignoring him. No more marriage bollocks. Be his best friend. Be his rock. If you do love him, it won’t be difficult to do that. He needs you right now, you know,” Freddie said as he stood up, making his way over to where Roger was, kneeling besides him. He grabbed Roger’s hands tenderly, making the younger look at him.

“He slept in my bed last night and all I heard him say was your name in his sleep. He loves you in his own way. That should be enough. If you apologize to him and make things right, he’ll be clinging to your side again in maybe 10 seconds or less.” Freddie gave Roger’s hands a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you sure?” Roger asked, his big blue eyes shimmering with tears he refused to let go of.

“Yes. He’s a dope for you. Get him the best bouquet of flowers you can find, his favorite food and a few spare parts and circuit boards and he’ll be good as new. I’m his mum, I would know,” Freddie said, laughing a little.

Roger smiled something weak and small, nodding slowly. That sounded fair. It sounded like it could be the start to restoring John’s trust and friendship with him.

“Okay,” he said lacking confidence, but the two of them knew Roger would do it anyways. Even if his knees shook.

“Brilliant. Now come here, blondie. I can’t stay cross with you,” Freddie said, pulling Roger off his seat and into his arms. Roger was more than happy to crumple into Freddie, practically in his lap as he gave him a gigantic hug.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes squeezed shut. Freddie smiled, snuggling him some.

“Anything for my two idiot sons. Oh, I’m real excited for you, Rog. I really am. I can see you as a fantastic daddy. Doing night feedings and running after them and playing with them on the floor. You’ll be amazing,” Freddie said as Roger got comfortable in his arms.

“I hope I will. I…feel breathless when I think about it. _Me_, a dad. _Wow_.”

Freddie giggled, petting Roger’s wild hair. “You will, pretty boy. But you have to go and sort yourself out with John first. Eat breakfast, make yourself look devilishly handsome and go do what I said. I’ll send John back to his flat before noon. Hurry, hurry,” Freddie said as he shrugged Roger off of him, giving his rump an encouraging smack.

With newfound vigor, the drummer got up and did exactly what he was told. Roger being a knob ended right now. He was going to prove to John he would be anything he needed him to be. He’d push down his self-centered feelings and make sure their kid made it into this world without any more speed bumps.

He rushed into his room, already rehearsing apologies under his breath.

Freddie sprawled himself onto the floor with a relieved groan. _What would these dumbasses do without him?_

♚

John leaned against one of the windows in his flat, a quilt draped around his shoulders as he stared out at the grey sky and the brown grass and the dried leaves, wondering when the snow would start to drizzle down. He exhaled softly, his eyes falling shut as a hand came up to rub his tummy. Despite how empty his heart and soul felt, there was still a certain fullness to him, thanks to the little peanut inside of him. He gave his belly a little pat, which for a moment, flooded him with nothing but love. Just for a moment.

He looked back out the window, his mind wandering over to what he could have for lunch when there was a knock at the door that shocked him out of his daydreams and into a state of frozen fear.

…


	4. You Win, You Lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You…fucking killed me, Rog. I don’t know which shattered harder when I left my bathroom to find myself alone. My brain or my heart.” John didn’t want to remember the feeling of complete helplessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE DELAY.  
Hurricane Dorian wasn't an issue. Life just got BUSY. But hopefully I'll be back to week-sh-ly updates now!!  
This was a hunk of a chapter. It's a bit choppy at times, so sorry. Uhhhh, yeah........Yeehaw!

Time seemed to stand still.

It’s a cliché saying, John would have said some days before, but right now, no words rang truer than those.

The knock on his door echoed for ages, his blood freezing in its course around his body. He could feel every hair on his skin stand up and his heart and stomach lurched together in excruciatingly perfect unison.

He knew who it was and what was coming. Freddie had told him after all. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was always easier to will difficult things away. Trick yourself into thinking something was a far-off worry even though it was knocking right at your front door.

So, in those precious hours he had to himself, he thought about everything besides _that_ and drank tea and read some comic books and didn’t think about _that_ and listened to the radio and absolutely under no circumstances thought about _that_. He did those things until _that_ was no longer ignorable.

Another knock rang out, causing time to begin again, rushing up and over him as if he were being doused in a wave of water. And once it started, it didn’t slow.

It felt like he was on fast forward, dropping the quilt from his shoulders and walking to his door. A million thoughts blossomed and died in that small trek, none of them helpful. His hands were already sweating, his mouth gone blisteringly dry.

He stood before the door, his knees feeling shaky, his face tingling uncomfortable. It took him a few seconds to remember to actually open the door, but once he did-

“Hi.”

Roger smiled something pretty, his eyes looking into John’s briefly before looking down to the floor, almost passively.

He was freshly shaved, the fragrant aftershave wafting itself into John’s nose. His hair was shiny and as well behaved as Roger’s hair could ever be, which wasn’t very much. He wore a smart blue button up, something John didn’t know Roger even possessed, with black slacks and unbecoming but characteristically Roger black leather boots, which shone as if freshly polished.

“Hi,” John said, opening the door all the way, his fingers keeping a tight grip on the doorframe, as if to stop the world from spinning so violently around himself.

It was weird. Seeing Roger. It’d only been some odd days since hell broke loose and in those scant few hours, John could only muster up hatred and embarrassment and fear regarding the topic of the very bloke standing before him.

But right now, all he wanted to do was to hug the blond. Roger wasn’t forgiven or in John’s good book. Not by a longshot. John just wanted to hold him and be held by him. He missed his place in those arms of his. Even if he hated his guts a lot right now.

He wouldn’t though. Roger didn’t deserve that. That’s what Freddie said at least_. Play hard to get. Don’t forgive him so easily. Let him know how much he hurt you_. He liked that plan, although he wasn’t sure how well he could go through with it.

“Uh, hi, John,” Roger began, nervously tucking some hair behind his ear. John didn’t say anything.

“So, I was hoping we could talk. About, um, us and other things, if that’s fine with you…” he said softly, meeting John’s gaze carefully.

John nodded. His tongue felt too tied to try any words.

“Good, good. Um, before though, I have some things for you,” Roger said, reaching down for a bag he had at his feet. “May I come in?”

John stepped back for Roger to make his way inside, shutting the door behind him, leaning against it. A wall of static seemed to be in between them, prickling and itching. When Roger walked by him, it felt worse than when your hand or foot falls asleep. It was all over his body. He didn’t like that.

Roger rummaged through his bag, smiling when he found what he was looking for and pulled out a rather hefty looking bouquet. John’s first thought was, _that looks expensive_.

“Yellow daffodils,” John said aloud instead as Roger handed him the flowers.

He nodded, adding, “And baby’s breath. ‘Cuz. Well. Yeah.”

John gave the flowers a sniff. They didn’t smell like much. Vaguely sweet and flower-y. Flowers rarely ever smelled as good as people made them seem.

“I know you’re not much into flowers and all but-“ Roger was cut off.

“It’s appropriate. Thank you,” John said, his nose still buried in the petals. It was a smell that didn’t make him want to puke, so it was already a win.

Roger laughed sheepishly before digging into his bag again, struggling to present to John a sack full of chocolate covered almonds. John’s eyes must’ve gone big and starry, a bit of drool coming out the corner of his mouth because Roger giggled.

“Your favorite, right?” Roger asked as John snatched up the sack, handing Roger back the flowers. This was a two-handed job. He opened the sack, grabbing a few almonds and popped them into his mouth, almost moaning when they melted, and his stomach didn’t protest. If chocolate became a target food for morning sickness during this pregnancy, John would actually cry. The only reason he wasn’t terribly underweight was because of a pantry full of chocolate bars, chocolate biscuits, chocolate scones and chocolate drenched nuts.

There was an almost relaxed smile on Roger as he watched John scarf down some almonds before he went back to get his final gift. It took John a minute to notice Roger holding out a radio for him. John’s eyebrow cocked, chewing slowly on a mouthful of almonds, staring skeptically at Roger.

“I got it at a- It doesn’t matter. It’s one of those new models. A bit busted, but I figured you’d probably have more fun that way.”

John hummed, licking his fingers clean and set the sack down on a table, taking the radio from Roger to inspect. He fiddled with the knobs and tapped the speaker. Damaged to hell alright. Sounded like a good time to him.

John looked up at Roger, a hint of a smile on his face. “Sit,” he said, earning him an immediate grin from the blond.

♚

With the flowers in a vase in the living room and the radio in a box with other things John intended to Frankenstein back to the living, Roger sat on John’s bed, holding a bowl of almonds while John puked in the adjoining bathroom.

They may not have been friends currently but vomiting until you heaved was never a cute look and he didn’t need Roger watching a play by play of it.

It wasn’t lost on the two of them that this was far too similar to the events from Friday. A big event followed by some impassionate puking. This time around, Roger wouldn’t sneak away. He’d be an adult and stay firmly planted on that very bed.

Roger set the bowl aside once he heard the toilet flush and the tap run. John exited, his eyes watery, his forehead and cheeks red. “Sorry. Damn almonds,” he mumbled, a hand over his queasy stomach. Maybe eating a whole fistful all at once wasn’t a smart idea. John didn’t regret a single bite though.

Meekly, he made his way over to the bed, sitting on a corner far away from Roger, his arms wrapping around his middle. That fuzzy, thorny wall was still there. If he sat any closer, he’d bleed.

Roger shook his head, nose wrinkling. “No. Don’t be sorry. I should be the one who’s sorry. And I am! I’m really _really_ sorry I was a jackass to you. I’m so sorry I ignored your phone calls and didn’t answer the door. I’m sorry I made you feel terrible. And I’m sorry I left you alone. There’s no excuse for any of that,” Roger said, looking down at his fidgeting hands.

John figured the heavy stuff would start soon. He still wasn’t prepared for it. An anxiety so raw crawled onto him, it made him want to gnaw his fingers off. He didn’t though, preferring to nod at Roger encouragingly. Perhaps listening to Roger call himself a jackass more would help lessen his unease.

“I was dumb and stubborn. I wanted my way and nothing else. I didn’t care about your input. I didn’t care about what you needed. I wanted to make things right my way, which was horrible of me.”

“I…don’t know why I acted that way,” Roger continued which was a lie. He loved the man next to him and in an extraordinarily dumb move, hoped a shotgun wedding would kick start a romance. John didn’t need to know that, of course. Not now at least. “I think I got shocked by the news and the eye blinders came on. I’ll work on that though. Truly.”

“But, it was stupid, my reaction. I was stupid. I forgot about you. I know you’re a nervous type. Slow to change. And I like that about you. I do. I just forgot. I’m really sorry, Deacy. All of this should be about you. Not me,” he said, swinging his legs apprehensively.

Despite how bad it felt to say his truth, to admit to his gigantic mistake, the self-flagellation brought some relief. He couldn’t come clean all the way, but this was the best thing to do and his heart knew it.

John wanted to say everything was fine, water under the bridge, but he knew he deserved better. To tell Roger everything and have him understand what those 3 days were like for him. He chewed on his lip before speaking.

“You…fucking killed me, Rog. I don’t know which shattered harder when I left my bathroom to find myself alone. My brain or my heart.” John didn’t want to remember the feeling of complete helplessness.

“I really thought I was going to go insane. And it got worse every time you ignored me. I was panicking so much and so hard, I thought I was going to lose-“ John dug his thumbnail into his palm, willing away the urge to cry. He still couldn’t finish the sentence.

Roger’s face went white.

“_I didn’t_. Obviously, I didn’t,” he added quickly.

“But I was scared that I would. And you didn’t even know. You refused to care. It made me think about a lot of things. I thought about running away. To Scotland or something. I thought about going to a back alley. I thought about saying yes to your bloody proposal. All of those options made me break a little more.” John’s palm and stomach ached.

With his eyes growing misty, John barely got out, “I just wanted you with me and you weren’t. That’s all I wanted.” Roger couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You left when things got hard. How can I trust you after that? How can _we_ trust you?” John asked, staring deeply into the top of Roger’s head since he wouldn’t look at him.

The ‘we’ felt foreign to the both of them. It wasn’t just John anymore. It wasn’t just Roger anymore. It’d never be just them ever again.

“What makes it so bad is that it was Freddie who had to pick up the pieces. If it weren’t for him, would you even be here right now?”

John’s question was like a dagger to the heart. Roger winced, a grimace twisting his face. He knew the answer. He didn’t like the answer.

“I’m sorry,” Roger whispered, his voice thin and crackly.

John shook his head, his face flushing. “I don’t need another apology. I don’t need presents. I need to know what you’re going to do to be here with me again. I’m not marrying you. I’m not doing anything that’s gonna make me more scared than I already am. So, my question is, what are you going to do?”

The shake in John’s voice made Roger want to sob, but he kept it all inside for when he was alone. He needed to think right now. Find a solution. He needed John back just as much as John needed him. Maybe more.

“I don’t have a plan…I didn’t think to make one. But I want to stick by your side. Do whatever you want or need. Fuck marriage. Fuck all of that. It’s you, John. You’re in the driver seat. I’m ready to listen to you and give you what you need and make you as comfortable and safe and calm and happy as I can make you. I’d rather smash my kneecaps in then spend another day away from you. I want to make this work. I’ll do whatever you want me to,” Roger said, sitting up a bit straighter, shifting over to face John.

John swallowed hard, nodding hazily. His mind was switching between having too much to say and not enough. The strange aura that enveloped them only grew louder, more chaotic. The hair on the nape of his neck stuck up.

“But do you mean it? Because last time you said we’d make things work and you didn’t,” John said, a sad lilt in his voice, his grey eyes big.

Roger leaned closer to John, holding his hands out for John to take if he wanted to.

John did.

Roger squeezed John’s hands tight, looking him right in his eyes. “I mean it. I promise. We’re going to be a little family now. I refuse to mess this up anymore. I refuse to put myself first over you and the baby. Especially the baby. John, I know I’ll have to work to deserve a place back in your life again, but I’m serious when I say_ I promise_.”

John squeezed Roger’s hands back, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. He had been so strong, so steadfast this whole time. His resolution was bound to falter.

“I just need time, you know. Time to get used to everything. I won’t always be so hesitant. I’ll get better too,” he murmured, a little ashamed that he caved in after the fight he put up.

Roger shook his head, dipping it so he could look at John. “No. No. No. You didn’t cause this. I did. You hear me, Deacy? I did.”

“I know…”

“Don’t say but.”

John flattened but nodded. It felt off not taking any of the blame. His eyes stung with tears.

“That’s an awful lot you’re doing for me. Is it worth it?” The façade of bravado had fallen. Was Roger giving up so much for a guy who can’t make decisions without serious panic worth it? Was this sustainable? He sniffled and took his hands away from Roger to rub his nose.

“Worth it? This? _You_? God, John. If I get my best friend back and a family, it’ll be more than worth it. You, _the both of you_, are worth it. Because…you’re my best mate.” _Because I love you_.

Roger risked scooting a bit closer to John. John didn’t shy away from him.

John looked around the room for a minute, his fingers rubbing soothing circles over his jaw as he thought.

Only time would tell if Roger was being true. And there was only one way to find out.

“I missed you so much, Rog,” John whispered, scooting even closer to the other.

“God, Deacy, I missed you more,” Roger said, his body sagging with relief. He opened up his arms, praying John would find his way into them.

John hesitated, but only for a second before he crashed into the blond, nearly knocking them both off the bed.

Things were still shaky. Absolutely shaky. The future was uncertain but bound to be with its fair share of strife. But the two of them felt okay for now, curled up against each other.

Nothing in the world felt so sure and so secure for John as being in Roger’s embrace. And nothing felt so right or so good as John’s face buried in Roger’s chest.

Roger kissed John’s fluffy hair, holding him closer, his skin deprived of the other in those scarce few days away from him. He almost felt high. “Your wish is my command, John. Remember that.”

John chuckled softly, wriggling his way into Roger’s lap, peeking up at him. “I’ll remember that. My first wish is for you to come with me to the doctors on Wednesday. I’m having my first scan.” Even though his life was in shambles and he thought he was going crazy, John had made an appointment to see what was happening down there. How far along he was and if everything seemed healthy.

Roger’s eyes sparkled, his mouth popping open. “Scan? Like an ultrasound?”

“Mhm. We’re going to see our little baby for the first time,” John said, grinning, suddenly more excited about the appointment than when he made it.

“Wow,” was all Roger said, which John took as a yes. The thought of seeing their kid on a screen, all blurry and very un-human looking, made his heart race.

“Wait! John, lay down,” Roger ordered, John immediately throwing himself back on his bed without a fuss or complaint. Old habits die hard. _Oh well_.

Roger crawled up to John’s side and lifted his shirt up just enough to expose his belly. Tentatively, he placed a calloused hand down onto the warm skin, still flat and ungiving. “There’s a baby in there,” Roger whispered, softly tracing his fingers down, his brain trying to comprehend how something so small could be living in his best friend right now.

“Our baby,” John corrected, smiling so hard it hurt. This was corny, but a fantastic change of pace.

“Our tiny baby,” Roger said, leaning down to press a kiss onto John’s tummy. John fought off a giggle, that air of static fading suddenly into something tender and vibrating with potential.

“Hi, baby. I bet you don’t even have ears right now. If you did though, you’d hear how excited I am to meet you. I’ll spoil you rotten. Oh, and this is me, Papa Roggie. Your favorite papa, of course,” Roger whispered to John’s tummy, snickering as he did.

John guffawed, slapping Roger’s head playfully. “Don’t go filling their head with lies. I’ll be the favorite, obviously.”

“Pfft. Don’t listen to him. I’ll buy you lollies and fizzy drinks and all the teddies you can hold. Promise.”

“Oh, good grief!”

♚

“First kid?” the technician asked as she prepared the sonogram machine. John, who was laying down on the table, his shirt lifted up and pants pulled down to his hips, and Roger, who stood by his side, holding his hand, both nodded, pale in the face. They were immensely nervous and neither of them could control it.

What if John wasn’t pregnant? A false positive.

What if the baby was in a bad place?

Or if it wasn’t healthy?

What if?

The technician chuckled, looking at the two of them practically shaking in their boots. “Don’t worry, dears. Doesn’t hurt a bit,” she said, quite used to first time parents freaking out during the first scan. She knew they feared more than just it being uncomfty but wasn’t allowed to say much more than that.

John smiled weakly, just wanting to get it over with.

He took that thought back the second freezing gel was smeared all over his stomach.

He shivered, looking over at Roger when she held up the wand, readying it to press it down onto his tummy. This was it. Show time. If there was any problem, they’d know. All this hell for nothing.

And if there wasn’t, they’d get to see their baby for the very first time.

Both options made their heads spin.

The room was quiet once the wand found John’s skin. The display on the ultrasound machine was just black with a white noise coming from it. She swirled the wand around some, the tension making them grow stiff as they waited for anything to pop up onto the screen.

Nothing came up on the screen. Not at first. Because the first thing that came from it was the sound of a heartbeat.

Fast, fluttering and strong.

John gasped.

“Aw, there we go! The babe’s heartbeat. Sounds lovely,” The tech commented, still searching for the baby itself.

John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A heartbeat inside him that wasn’t his. And he knew it wasn’t his because his heart kept skipping beats.

He couldn’t fathom how a heart so tiny could beating away inside of him. That it belonged to something, someone. And that he was the reason it was beating and would continue to beat for months to come. His stomach filled with butterflies.

Roger coughed when something white and fuzzy finally popped up on the screen. There was white and then a small circle of black and then a smaller patch of white.

“And there’s baby!” The tech cheered, using the machine to snap a few photos.

There they were.

Teeny. Helpless. But alive. And moving. _Actually moving_.

Roger coughed again, looking away from the screen and John. The moment he saw their baby on that screen, he was overwhelmed.

Roger knew what love was. He loved his mum. He loved his bandmates. He loved John.

The feeling of sunshine and infinite warmth filling his veins wasn’t love. It was pure adoration, devotion and reverence. When he saw that little thing that was going to become his kid, he felt something he never knew he could feel, and it moved him to tears. He cleared his throat, hoping no one noticed, in awe of the affection brewing in his chest. _You little thing, you. I love you already. Holy shit._

The technician giggled a bit, smiling fondly. “None of them will admit it, but most daddies cry on the first scan,” She said, carrying on with the measurements and pictures. Okay, so someone did notice.

John was simply dumbfounded. Unable to cry or laugh. He just stared and stared at the screen. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the bean-looking thing on the screen was inside of him. It was so silly, but he wanted to touch the screen. The baby was obviously not in there, but his brain was little more than a melted heap of confusion, anxiety and tenderness.

He brought his fingers up, apprehensive about what he was going to do. Only after he saw his baby wriggle did he dare to touch the monitor, whispering in wonder, “Oh my god.” The tech, used to all types of reactions, simpered.

“That’s…” John started, his lips failing him, the sense of amazement drowning any coherent thought.

“Our baby,” Roger finished, red eyed and nasal.

“Our baby,” John echoed, letting his head loll to look at Roger.

It was suddenly achingly real. They were going to be a family. A family. Trivialities didn’t matter anymore. John would do anything for this tiny thing. And he knew Roger was the same. There was no turning back and John didn’t care. It’d be nappies and dummies from now on. A whole lifetime to watch their baby grow and to love it. It was petrifying, but it couldn’t come fast enough.

The tech finished up her work, setting the wand down, the screen going black, much to John and Roger’s dismay. She wiped his belly clean and typed a few things into the machine. The doctor would be in shortly, she said before slipping out.

John fixed his clothes before sitting up, a stupor heavy on his shoulders. Roger was barely keeping it together, sniveling and wiping his ever-wet cheeks. He looked over to John, a hand over his mouth, his eyes puffy. He didn’t utter a word. He could imagine the love radiating off of him was enough.

Slowly, John asked, “You’re all choked up?” Roger nodded, his throat wanting to let out a cry. He’d never felt something so dazzlingly consuming like this. He’d never been at a loss for words. This person that John was growing had him thoroughly ruined and they weren’t even born yet.

John was ecstatic to see Roger so moved. It let him know they were on the right path, on the same page. It wasn’t about either of them anymore.

He pulled Roger into a hug, leaning back to wipe his tears. Roger hiccupped, looking utterly pathetic.

“Sorry,” he croaked. John hushed him.

“They looked beautiful, didn’t they? Our baby,” John cooed, his hands cupping Roger’s cheeks. Roger nodded, his eyes watering all over again at the thought.

“Brilliant. This is brilliant,” John mumbled, pressing his lips to Roger’s. He didn’t think he’d get to do this again for a long time, but it felt right. Roger kissed back, his lips wet and salty.

They only pulled away because Roger had to sniffle. “Thank you,” he said, still reeling over this sudden and life altering shift in perspective. This was something bigger, better and purer than him. He was ready to defend and protect his child no matter what. He understood what undying love felt like. And now he knew more than ever he was ready to give his everything to John and this baby. More than ready.

“Thank _you_,” John said, pecking Roger’s lips again, pulling away just in time for the doctor to come in.

♚

John laid back on the table, now raised up so it was more chair like. He held the printed photo in his hand, a thumb rubbing the corner comfortingly. Roger rested his chin on John’s shoulder, staring at the photo too.

“6 weeks huh?” Roger commented, buzzing from all the information the doctor gave them.

“Yup. 6 whole weeks of being alive. That’s insane,” John said, his eyebrows raised. He’d only started putting the pieces together some 3 weeks ago. They were already inside, making themselves a home by then.

“Only 34 more to go.”

“Christ. Don’t remind me,” John said, chuckling.

“And they’ll be a September baby. Who do you think is gonna scream when they hear that?” Roger said with a snort.

“Oh god. When Freddie finds out, he’ll make us give them his name as their middle name or something. Pfft!”

“Maybe if we show him how big your prenatal vitamins are, he won’t hound you about it.” John groaned remembering the gigantic pills he had to take now.

The two of them started to gather their things to head out and make another appointment for the following month when John froze in his tracks.

“How are we going to tell Brian?” He shrieked, almost having forgotten about the poor guitarist amidst all the drama.

Roger sighed, his hand flying to his forehead. “Oh my god, Brian’s going to kill me,” Roger grunted. Technically, he did defile the youngest in the band, which seemed to be a no-no. Brian wasn’t particularly mother hen-y about John, but he would always find any excuse to wail on Roger.

“Hold on! Maybe this will help,” John said as he grabbed a pen and scribbled onto one of the copies of the print “Happy Christmas, Uncle Bri!”

Roger grimaced. Lord help them.


	5. It's just a simple fact of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What? A man can’t want to spend time with his bandmates? Sheesh.” Roger pushed Brian into the living room, his heart and lungs tangling themselves up in his chest. He already knew the plan. John would take the lead. Tell Brian when he felt the moment was right, which was after at least a few beers. He didn’t feel confident. Something was bound to happen. This was Queen after all. When did anything ever go normally?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every week-ish maybe

John swallowed hard, his leg shaking rapidly as he sat back against the couch, his arms crossed over his stomach, his back pocket burning. He looked over to the clock in Roger’s living room, sighing when he read 4:58pm. He had checked it only a minute ago, expecting time to have gone forward by at least 10 minutes in that short window. Time was so finicky lately.

He huffed, earning himself a hand on his bouncing knee. He looked up, his eyes meeting Roger’s, who sat next to him, his leg going still. “Relax. He won’t be mad. Not at you at least,” Roger said, giving him one of those million-dollar smiles. John smiled back, although he didn’t believe the other’s words.

“Says the dead man walking,” Freddie oh so supportively commented, a wine glass (that he helped himself to) in hand, walking over to shove himself onto the couch as well. There wasn’t any more room for him, but Freddie didn’t really to care.

Roger rolled his eyes, scooting over to give Freddie some space, silently enjoying how he got to press up closer to John. “Who invited you here anyways?” Roger said with a somewhat playful sneer. Freddie snorted into his wine glass as he took a sip.

“The gods. And the promise for a fight.”

“Oh, come off it, Fred! Brian won’t be mad. It’s just a baby. Maybe if I shagged his mum, you’d get that fight you’re looking for,” Roger said, jabbing his elbow into Freddie’s side, making the singer squeak.

“A baby currently in the youngest. The youngest he told you to steer clear of. And that’s exactly why I want front row tickets to see you two duke it out,” Freddie said, giggling, the wine in his hand clearly not his first glass.

John looked down to muffle a snigger. He didn’t like when his friends fought, but John couldn’t say he was wholly opposed to Roger getting a good slap to the face. He’d break it up if it got any farther. After the slap.

“_Very funny, haha_,” said Roger, sticking his tongue out at Freddie. He was anticipating a blow up of sorts, but nothing physical. Roger and Brian have had rows over worse subjects and it never led to punches. He didn’t think today would be any different, although anxiety still gnawed at his legs, wondering if Brian would be disappointed in him. “Where’s Bri anyways? He’s usually always five minutes early,” he asked, glancing over at the clock that displayed 5:00.

Like, _well_, clockwork, the doorbell rang. They all shivered.

“His punctuality disgusts me,” Freddie spat out.

Roger grumbled, getting up to go get the door since no one else seemed in a rush to get it. Not that he expected John to, with how hard he was shaking in his boots. Or Freddie who was flat out drunk.

He peeked through the peep hole, only to be met with a bush of curls. Yup, right visitor. He opened the door and pulled on a forced smile.

“Brian! Thanks for coming!” Roger said, pulling Brian in for a brief hug.

Brian had no idea why he was here or why Roger was hugging him, but like for most of his life, he just went with it, hugging Roger back.

“I see the whole gang is here,” Brian said as the two of them made their way inside, waving at John and Freddie through the foyer. John waved back awkwardly. Freddie just giggled, the anticipation riling him up.

“Yeah. Decided to have a bit of a Queen get together. Wine and what have you,” Roger said, a hand going to rub his neck nervously. While he was a good liar and this wasn’t exactly a lie, he still felt his stomach gurgle apprehensively. Brian didn’t seem to notice, oblivious as always.

“Didn’t we have one some weeks ago?” Brian said as he took off his coat, hanging it up on the coat rack.

“What? A man can’t want to spend time with his bandmates? Sheesh.” Roger pushed Brian into the living room, his heart and lungs tangling themselves up in his chest. He already knew the plan. John would take the lead. Tell Brian when he felt the moment was right, which was after at least a few beers. He didn’t feel confident. Something was bound to happen. This was Queen after all. When did anything ever go normally?

Brian shrugged, stumbling along to where the others sat.

“Freddie! You’ve started without me!” Brian feigned hurt. Freddie held out his glass in a one-man toast in response.

“Trust me, luvvy. The party has yet to begin,” he said, snickering. John jabbed Freddie with his finger, hiding Freddie’s complaining whine with a well-timed cough.

Roger, the anxious waiter for the evening, stood in front of them, his hands wringing. “Can I get you anything, Bri? Beer, wine? And John, do you want water or something?”

John paled. Roger went paler. Freddie nearly spit out his wine, trying to hold in a guffaw. What a way to let it slip.

“Water? Get that man a beer,” Brian said, chuckling as he sat on the couch next to where Freddie and John were piled up, none the wiser to the sudden tension in the room.

“I have heartburn,” John said robotically, his eyes wide. He thanked god he came up with that so quickly.

Roger let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

It went right over Brian’s head. As most things typically did.

“Oh. Sorry about that, mate,” Brian said with a small apologetic smile. John had to force his lips to smile back. Now wasn’t the time for the big reveal.

Freddie and Brian engaged in idle chat, Freddie side eyeing John every so often while Roger fetched the drinks. A beer for Brian, more wine for Freddie, water for John and a big shot of tequila for himself, which he threw back and down the gullet before he left the kitchen. Why was he so damn nervous? It was just Brian. His buddy. His mate. The guy who stuck with him when he only had a pipe dream of stardom. His mentor.

_Oh. _

That’s why.

He shook his head clear of those thoughts as he walked back into the room, handing everyone their drink before plopping himself down by Brian.

“So, what are you lads chatting about?” He asked, throwing his arms back over the sofa, getting comfortable.

Freddie looked at him, his dark eyes glinting sharply. “We’re talking about family, Rog. About how much we love our family. What family means to us,” he said, a knowing smile on his lips. Roger bit his tongue. Freddie was going to pay for this later.

“Er…not really? I was just talking about my great aunt. She was a plane mechanic in World War Two. It’s actually her birthday today! She’s dead though…” Brian said nodding a little.

“Great aunt? I’d bet you’d make a great uncle,” Freddie said, taking another sip from his wine glass. John stiffened at Freddie’s side, tired of Freddie’s drunken antics. A twitch began to jerk at the corner of his eye.

“Great aunt as in my grandmother’s s-“

“I know what you mean, dear. But don’t you agree? A wonderful uncle. I think so. What about you boys?” John and Roger grumbled incoherently in response.

If Freddie kept it up, the only people duking it out would be Roger and him.

“Uh, I guess? I haven’t got any siblings though…” Brian was only unsuspicious because of Freddie’s current intoxication. And because he was a rather clueless bloke. Has that been said already?

“Brian, don’t you have us as your brothers?” Freddie asked, his free hand upturned questioningly.

Brian chuckled warmly, ever the sentimental guy. “You’re right! I wouldn’t mind being an uncle to any of your future kids. But it’s not like any of you are getting married anytime soon. Bachelors for life, eh? Or at least until retirement.” Him and Freddie laughed, but for two very different reasons.

John was about ready to start screaming. He was a balloon ready to burst. He knew Roger said to wait until the light weight had a beer or two in his system, but with how slowly he was sipping, John would be dead by then. Exploded due to anxiety. Would the corner for his autopsy have a world first? He didn’t want to find out.

“Funny you should say that,” John said, his voice not sounding lighthearted or happy in the slightest. His pocket sizzled.

Roger stared at John, his blue eyes almost looking like a puddle. Murky and rippling. He was scared. John glanced back at him, taking in a deep breath. It has to happen. And if Roger dies, he dies. John was willing to make that sacrifice.

Brian raised up his eyebrows curiously. “Hm?”

“The uncle stuff…” John said sheepishly, somehow finding the strength to will his body out of the couch and over to where Brian was. He reached into his back pocket that was burning hot and pulled out the sonogram, handing it to Brian.

While Brian looked at the picture, Roger slinked over to John’s side, hoping Brian would get what was happening with as few words as possible. It was quite an awkward situation to explain.

Brian squinted at the photo in his hands, his brain struggling to decipher to splotches of black, grey and white. After a few seconds, it clicked. A baby!

He loved babies!

He smiled weakly as he read what was written under it. “Happy Christmas, Uncle Bri!”. He recognized the handwriting but failed to put any of the pieces together. Was John’s sister pregnant? She wasn’t even married…

He looked up to John, confusion all over his face. Who was this from?

Roger could see the familiar look of bewilderment on Brian’s face. He decided to help but wrapping one arm around John’s waist and gently placing a hand on his tummy. John tried to help by smiling excitedly, but he could only make himself look even more uncomfortable with everything that was happening than he already was.

Brian looked at Roger’s hand and then at Roger and then at John and then at Roger and then at-

He suddenly stood up, the pupils of his eyes turning into pinpricks.

“Didn’t I explicitly tell you to keep your filthy prick away from John?!” Brian boomed, his face going red. “Didn’t I say in these exact words, Roger, stay away from the good catholic boy? Remember when I said that? And now he’s pregnant? And most certainly not like the Virgin Mary?!” Brian hissed, his pores weeping malice.

Freddie hurried to fill his cup with more wine. He didn’t want to miss a single moment.

“I…possibly remember,” Roger said meekly. He did remember.

He remembered when John auditioned, Brian must’ve noticed the way Roger bit his lip watching him play his bass. Brian tugged his ear and wagged a finger, mouthing “**No!**”. What could he say? He had a thing for guys who looked like poodles. Brian would know. Roger pursued him until Brian came out as lamentably heterosexual.

He also remembered all the dirty looks Brian shot him when he was simply enjoying the view of John’s pert ass. He’d always hold his hands up innocently and say, “Just looking.” Which seemed to work for the both of them until it didn’t. Especially when John started throwing flirty looks at him.

And now he’s pregnant.

“Possibly?!” Brian spluttered.

“You know, it does take two to tango,” John interjected, hoping to save them all from an infamous Brian tirade.

Brian’s eyes turned to slits, glaring at the youngest. “Shouldn’t you be in Sunday school?” John scratched his head and sputtered, trying to hide the fact that he found that to be a funny question. At the rate things were going for him, he could’ve benefitted from a few more lessons at his childhood church.

Brian turned his blazing fire gaze back to Roger, who’s lips were pressed into a tight line, his body leaning away from the towering man.

“I give you one person to not corrupt and that’s exactly what you do! John was an angel an-“

John was most certainly not corrupted by the blond. He had to make that unequivocally clear. He blinked, holding a finger up. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. I _am_ an angel. And Roger didn’t corrupt me. Let’s get that straight.”

Brian stuttered before pausing. “W-What? You said you were a virgin?”

“Yeah. Four years ago,” John said like it was obvious.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Brian asked, suddenly very sad his friend didn’t tell him when he scored.

“Was I supposed to send a newsletter?”

“Maybe??”

Freddie snickered. Roger bit back a laugh, looking over his shoulder.

Brian threw his hands up in the air, waving them as if he was wiping away this conversation. Now was not the time. Also, the discussion was getting a little too weird. “I- It doesn’t matter! Roger! What did I tell you?”

“Oh, sod off! You’re acting like I killed Deacy. I just made him…a little pregnant…” Roger said, not happy about his choice of words. He grimaced.

“A little bit?” Brian asked incredulously, an eyebrow cocking.

John nodded, holding up his thumb and pointer finger to show just how little-y pregnant he was. “Uh-huh,” he added for safe measure.

John and Roger were clearly having **_a little bit_** of fun with this. Brian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Christ…have you picked out names yet?” He asked, ready to drop his act of pearl clutching. Yelling wasn’t gonna make John un-pregnant. Or uncorrupted. He was sure Roger was the one who had done it.

John beamed. Roger grinned. Freddie booed.

“No one ever threw a punch! This was no better than a cat fight! Roger, where are your cats? I’m going to go sulk with them,” Freddie griped as he got up, wobbling to find said cats.

The three of them watched the toasted singer barely make it out of the room before they turned their attention back to each other. Brian opened up his arms for John and Roger. They happily acquiesced.

All was well again, and it totally didn’t get strange at all!

“Holy shit. This isn’t a joke or anything? You guys are going to be parents??” He asked, squeezing his closest friends tightly.

“Unless the doctors are lying to us…” John said, his eyes crinkling. Roger looked at John affectionately, his cheeks pink. This was definitely real.

Brian let them go, leading them to a couch to sit down. There was so much to talk about.

“I have at least a hundred questions. But my first one is, why did you guys tell Freddie first?” Brian pouted, his hands on his hips. John didn’t tell him when he lost his V-card and he was the last to know about the baby. What the hell?

John waved a defensive hand, laughing lightly. “I didn’t tell him. He figured it out all by himself.”

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I DID!” Freddie yelled from somewhere inside Roger’s house. “MAMA’S KNOW THEIR BABIES.”

Brian shook his head. Of course, Freddie did. Freddie could sniff out any secret. Like a bloodhound but for drama instead of murder victims.

“Duh,” he said to himself before becoming animated again. “Tell me everything then! When’s the wedding? Are you going to buy a new house together? Due date?”

John and Roger’s faces went blank. Awkward as anticipated.

“Uh, well, no to the wedding. We’re going to…stay friends,” John said, hesitating on the last few words, knowing they wouldn’t make sense to their curly haired friend. He lightly pat Roger’s knee, a friendly gesture. Also, awkward.

Brian was puzzled again. He was confused too many times this afternoon. He didn’t like it.

“We were never together. Just friends… with benefits. So, no marriage,” Roger clarified, an uncomfortable lilt to his voice. It wasn’t fun having to admit there’s nothing between him and John. He prayed Brian and John didn’t notice.

“Fuck buddies?” Brian asked, his face screwing up ever so slightly.

“That’s one way to put it. Sure,” Roger said. John blushed.

Brian was at his daily capacity for judgment. He’d let the fact that his friends were fucking behind their backs for god knows how long slide right off his back. No need to make another scene about that. Nope. “…Okay then! What about the house? I assume you’re going to co-parent?”

John and Roger looked at each other. They hadn’t even thought of that. They looked to Brian. “We haven’t thought about that,” John admitted.

Brian’s confidence in the weird couple-not-couple began to falter. “Do you at least know the due date…?”

Thank God they did. “September! September 10th!”

Freddie screamed and ran into the room, one of Roger’s cats tucked under his arm. “A Virgo baby? Deacy, you’re giving me a Virgo grandbaby?!” he yelled, his eyes twinkling.

John glowed and nodded. “If everything goes to plan, I’d say so!”

Freddie dropped the cat and flew across the room to hug his precious-angel-child-who-was-going-to-give-him-a-Virgo-Queen-baby. John could only snort as Freddie pressed their cheeks together, blubbering everything he knew about the sacred star sign.

Brian cleared his throat.

John had to practically peel the singer off of him to continue talking with Brian.

“Freddie, have some shame,” Brian said teasingly.

Freddie, who was on the floor, still sniffling, loudly said, “No!”

Typical Freddie. Even when sober.

“Anyways, I really mean this when I say I’m happy for you two. I don’t think many cou- uh- parents have a plan from the get-go. I wouldn’t worry with how intelligent you two are. I’m excited to meet the little Queenie,” Brian said, wrapping his arms around John and Roger to give them another big hug.

“I can’t even imagine how recording the new album will go. Aren’t we scheduled to start in June and wrap up in September? You’ll be doing a photo finish, huh?” Brian asked, squishing them some as he laughed.

Roger giggled, picturing a big bellied John messing with the bass straps to fit it over his stomach.

John laughed, one of his hands forming into a fist.

Despite how messy and unplanned this all was, nobody ever died from a tricky situation before. With Queen now all on the same page, the future seemed optimistic. Roger and John had a tight knit family ready to help, ready to accommodate and understand.

After a few more drinks and some snacks and more conversation about what the future held, everyone eventually left by night fall, a drunk Freddie getting a ride home from John.

Roger finally felt assured. He was going to be a dad and his baby would have two ecstatic uncles to dote on them. John seemed just as happy as the rest of them, letting Brian pat and talk to his belly. Nothing could knock him down from the cloud he was on.

That was, until he got a phone call at 12am.

♚

“I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry, Rog. Oh my god. I can’t stop panicking. I can’t stop crying. I can’t do this. Brian pointed it out. We don’t have a bloody plan. We’re gonna mess this up. We’re gonna mess this up so bad. I can’t do this,” John sobbed, his voice crackling and shaking as he wailed into the phone.

The sleep immediately left Roger’s eyes, his heart beginning to race as he realized who was on the other end of the line. His grip on the phone tightened

“I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry. I’m so scared. I’m losing my mind. I’m so scared. So scared. Roger. So scared.”

“Hey, John, it’s okay. It’s fine. I’ve got this. I’ve got you. I’m coming over right now. Right now. Just breathe for me, okay? Breathe for the baby. I’m coming. Breathe. You’re going to be okay,” Roger coached, looking down at himself in the dark of his kitchen to see what he’d need to put on to be somewhat decent.

“Please, Rog,” John whimpered, the tears clear in his words.

“I’m coming, Deacy.” Roger said before hanging up.

In an adrenaline-fueled haze, he put on a shirt, pants, coat and boots and ran out the door, almost forgetting his car keys in the process.

Speeding through London, bewildered at the traffic this late at night, Roger stress smoked a cigarette, lambasting himself for thinking the anxiety would be over. It’s only been days, but they’ve already jumped through so many hoops. He thought John would be okay by now. Ready to go with the flow of things. Of course, he wouldn’t be. Maybe he never would be. Until they had an actual tangible airtight plan, John wouldn’t be okay.

Roger shook his head, tapping some ashes outside of his window as he ate a red light.

He barely parked outside of John’s flat, running to the door and knocking rapidly.

“It’s Roger. I’m here, Deacy!” he called out, not caring if it woke up some neighbors.

The door swung open, a red eyed, tear stained, trembling John standing in the doorway. He took one look at Roger before throwing himself at him, continuing his panic attack in the crook of the blond’s neck.

Roger held onto his best friend as tightly as he could, his lips finding their way to John’s ear so he could whisper soothing words while he rubbed his back.

“I’m here. I’m here. I got you. Not letting you go. I’m not letting you go.”

It took John an hour to stop the sniffling and hiccupping. In the dark of his bedroom, they snuggled up in his bed, Roger making good on his promise to not let go. John was pressed into Roger’s chest, his breathing finally even and deep. Roger ran his fingers through John’s hair, humming softly.

“How are you feeling?” He whispered, not able to see John’s face.

“Better,” John mumbled, his body drained of pretty much all emotion. He was just exhausted.

“Do you want something? Water?”

“No. I wanna sleep. Tired.”

“That’s okay. Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning,” Roger cooed. He started to shift around which made John freeze, his muscles jerking.

“Shh. Don’t worry. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere, Deacy. I’m just…” Roger shifted the both of them until they were in a more comfortable position. John was the little spoon. Roger nuzzled his nose into John’s hair, smiling when John relaxed against him.

“Good?” he asked. John nodded.

Roger’s hands found their way to John’s belly, tracing light circles on it. John’s body sagged further, completely relaxed.

“Good night, John. You did god today. I lo- I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

John’s response was a soft snore.

Roger stayed true to his word. He didn’t leave that night. Or any other night after that.


	6. They Say It's Just a State of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger bit his lip, trying to suppress a laugh. He didn’t want to make John feel bad. John clearly wasn’t pleased with this, but he did find it funny. “I heard that’s quite normal in pregnancy,” Roger said, forcing his voice to be as even and steady as possible.  
Roger could see John’s shoulders slump. “It’s bloody embarrassing. Four times a day is barely enough,” he huffed, suddenly forgetting about feeling coy.  
Roger almost choked. “Four?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pointless chapter you can skip for the most part if you don't like smut. This took way too long to write. I'm no good at smut, why did I do this?  
And obligatory reminder, I don't consent to minors reading this!! If you're a minor, go away, please!  
This is def not going to be 10 chaps like I wanted it to be...haha  
Updates every weekish...eh  
emma_and_orlando beta-ed this kinda.

Roger squinted at the sunlight pouring into the room, a limp hand going up to shield his eyes from the bright rays. He blinked as the cobwebs of sleep shook off his brain, consciousness returning to him slowly again.

The room around him, John’s room, was painted with early morning yellow, a chill having settled in during the wintery night. Not that Roger felt it much. In front of him, a mop of brown fluffy hair laid still, heat radiating off the owner like a furnace. It wasn’t an all too unfamiliar sight. Some late-night rendezvous’ ended up with breakfast rather than a midnight walk of shame. And it always looked similar to this. A sleeping John who always ran hot and a wide-awake Roger, quietly watching, cuddled up as close as possible.

It was nice seeing John so at peace after what happened last night. It was unfortunate he had to be asleep to reach such a state, but Roger would take it. His body was limp, his breathing soft, decorated in tiny snores here and there. If he could see the other’s face, he was sure there’d be a sleepy smile on his lips, his brows unfurrowed, not a stressed crease to be found. Roger could kiss that face. But he wouldn’t.

Instead, he’d make that face some breakfast. Despite how serene John looked slumbering deeply before him, he knew the day would be rough. They had more things to talk about. A plan to make. He could already feel the tension poison the atmosphere. The least he could do was make John a good breakfast before the panic took over yet again.

Roger yawned, scooting backwards away from John, ready to go wash his mouth with a toothbrush he hoped John hadn’t thrown out, his mind conjuring up the least nausea inducing breakfast he could think of.

A hand flew backwards, clinging onto any part of Roger it could find.

Roger jumped, not expecting John to have noticed with how deeply he had been sleeping. “Deacy, I didn’t know you were awake,” he said, a smile in his voice.

John hummed drowsily, almost sounding like he was trying to say, ‘Don’t go’.

“I’m not leaving. I was going to make you some breakfast.” He rubbed his hand over John’s to soothe it. John didn’t relent.

“Stay,” he mumbled, wiggling backwards to get back closer to Roger. Roger physically could not say no to such a cute display.

He chuckled, pressing back into John. “Alright. You win,” he said, letting an arm drape over John’s middle.

John croaked out a quiet laugh before he went stiff.

Roger went stiff too.

His hand had brushed up against something he wasn’t expecting.

John suddenly seemed more alert and entirely meek. “Sorry. It’s a little bit ridiculous,” he whispered, happy Roger couldn’t see how red his face had went.

Roger moved his hand far _far_ away from what he assumed was John’s raging morning wood. “Ridiculous?” he asked, perhaps a _tiny_ bit curious about what he meant by that.

John was quiet for a minute before he spoke again. “It’s like morning sickness. They say morning but it’s all day. This is more like…twenty-four hour wood…” Why did he say it like that? He wanted to face palm but refrained from doing so. He cringed instead.

Roger bit his lip, trying to suppress a laugh. He didn’t want to make John feel bad. John clearly wasn’t pleased with this, but he did find it funny. “I heard that’s quite normal in pregnancy,” Roger said, forcing his voice to be as even and steady as possible.

Roger could see John’s shoulders slump. “It’s bloody embarrassing. Four times a day is barely enough,” he huffed, suddenly forgetting about feeling coy.

Roger almost choked. “Four?”

John covered his mouth with his hands, giggling as he rolled over to look at Roger. His eyes were playful and crinkled at the corners. “Sometimes five.”

“In a row?!”

John snorted, shaking his head. “Of course not! It’s sprinkled throughout the day. Always shocking me when it happens. I should call it surprise wood.”

Roger went reeling, lying flat on his back, as if he were just murdered by John’s words. “And I haven’t noticed?” he asked incredulously. The two had been hanging out practically every day, all day. Not to mention John was no, er, small man. How had he missed something as obvious as that?

“Well placed pillows and secrecy,” John said, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. Roger sputtered, realizing now how John had a new habit of curling up, hugging pillows and frequent bathroom breaks.

“Christ, Deacy. You could’ve told me, I could’ve h-“ Roger stopped talking, his heart lurching, his eyes going straight to the ceiling, never budging. They were friends with benefits. _Were_. The moment John told him he was pregnant; he didn’t feel it appropriate to want that anymore. He was sure he’d still find John an appetizing sight even when his belly jutted out and his feet got swollen. But it was weird, wasn’t it? To want that with someone growing your child who wasn’t even your partner…Strange, right?

It’s not like they even had time to think about the change in their relationship. With the last few weeks being a hurricane of news and emotions, neither of them stopped to think about how they got into this situation in the first place.

Roger could feel a pair of steel grey eyes on him and then, the bed creaked as John rolled off of it.

“I’m sorry,” Roger said, frightened he scared John off with his brief moment of idiocy. He still couldn’t look at him. Did he ruin things again?

There was a pause before John spoke. “I’m going to wash my mouth,” he said, his tone flat. He took a few steps towards his bathroom before looking back at Roger who was now sitting up in bed, fiddling with the bed sheets. “You should too,” he continued, looking at the ground as he gently cupped his crotch, a pleasant sigh rushing past his lips.

Roger physically could **not** say no.

♚

With morning breath eradicated, the both fell into bed and fell back into a familiar rhythm. John couldn’t stop giggling as Roger hovered over him, pressing soft kisses all over his neck.

There wasn’t a shred of awkwardness between them. They hadn’t been like this in over a month and it felt fantastic to do what they apparently did best together.

“Thought you were gonna kick me out,” Roger mumbled against John’s skin, hooking a finger around the collar of the John’s thick sleeping shirt, pulling it downwards to gain more access to his neck and chest.

John tilted his head back to give Roger more room to nibble and suck. “God no. My hand isn’t enough. Didn’t know how to ask you.” Roger smirked, remembering the time John told him Roger had ruined masturbation for him forever. Without Roger there, he’d never feel satisfied.

Some things didn’t change.

Roger nipped his way up to John’s jawline and then brushed their noses together, still with smug grin on his face. “You always know I’m happy to service you,” Roger purred, making John want to roll his eyes at him, but instead rolled them back, so ready for a “servicing”.

Roger chuckled, taking that as a “Yes, please.”. With how long their hiatus had been, he was just as needy as John. He’d try not to tease him. For too long, at least.

He shifted himself down some, straddling John’s waist. He had remembered a comment from some weeks ago and his curiosity was reignited. He lifted up John’s shirt and smiled, watching his chest go pink, rising and falling with anticipation. John watched him, wondering what he was planning in that handsome blond head of his.

Roger rubbed his hands together to get rid of the cold, and without warning, rubbed a thumb over one of John’s nipples. John’s hips bucked immediately, a hiss coming out through grit teeth. “Too sensitive,” he growled, his chest blooming a deeper pink, both his nipples becoming hard after the touch.

Roger raised an eyebrow at that, asking for clarification. “Did it hurt, or do I need to be _more gentle_?” He grinned widely when John didn’t answer, his only reply an angry squint. Roger was too sharp for his own good.

Far too excitedly, Roger grazed his thumb feather light against John’s pink bud, licking his lips when John broke out into goosebumps, a strong shiver running down his back. “Oh, we are _so_ going to have fun with that,” Roger said huskily, already imagining the ways he could make John squeal with just his tongue. John could not say he was unenthusiastic to experiment with that later on.

Not today though. Or not this round (He was hoping to test that four times a day theory). He was too impatient, and John was too. John whined, the tent in his pants straining, a wet patch already formed. “_Please_,” He whined, not wanting to play any games right now. He was in desperate need of a good and fast fucking.

He wrapped his arms around Roger’s neck, forcing him to lean down. There was a vicious glint to his eyes that Roger had never seen before. Feral. Hungry. Like he wanted to eat him up. It made Roger’s cock twitch. Goddamn. _Goddamn_.

Roger pressed his lips against John’s, wanting to taste some of that hunger. John kissed back, his fingers flying to tangle themselves in Roger’s hair, his chest puffing up to press against Roger’s. His core vibrated with a need only Roger could satisfy. Those past few weeks had been pure hell. He couldn’t keep his food or his dick down. And during one of those struggles, he could only daydream about Roger could help.

John moaned into the kiss, deepening it. Roger was almost shocked at how voracious John was acting. While rarely passive, he was never this assertive. Fussy and demanding. It was charming. But it’d be cuter when he’d put John back in his place. Roger’s cock twitched.

John bit Roger’s lower lip, tugging painfully good on his hair. A silent plea for _more_. He knew he’d be falling to pieces under Roger’s hand in an embarrassing amount of time, but he craved it. The heat in his crotch was beginning to ache.

Roger didn’t hesitate to pull away from the kiss to palm the front of John’s pants. “Is this more sensitive too?” he whispered, giving John a tentative rub. John’s mouth dropped open with a pathetic groan, his hips raised up to get Roger’s hand pressed firmer against him.

“You don’t even know,” he panted out. Sometimes he could barely touch himself before he spilled. Convenient when he was in a rush but very humiliating considering he already had a bad track record with stamina.

But John couldn’t be damned to care at the moment, especially with a smiling Roger shimmying his pants and boxers down and off, his cock finally free from its constraints. The cold air tickled his legs and made them prickle with goosebumps. John was thankful when Roger’s warm hands ran up and down his thighs, easing the shock of a December morning.

He refused to waste any more time chasing off the chill. John shook Roger’s hands off his legs after a few seconds and showed him just how much he wanted him by spreading his legs wide open. His eyes burrowed into Roger’s crotch, shivering as he inhaled deeply.

Roger let out something like a gasp and whine at the desperate man in front of him, working double time to get his own pants off. “Jesus Christ, John,” he breathed, never having witnessed the magnificence of a superbly needy John before.

“I know,” John said, surprised by his own behavior but not wanting to make the effort to seem at least a tiny bit patient.

With his pants off and discarded, Roger reached over to the bedside table where the condoms and lube usually were. He snatched them up, fiddling with the condom box, his fingers not cooperating with how clouded his brain was with lust.

John sat up some, tapping the top of the box to get Roger’s attention. “We don’t need those, you know…” John said, a frisky smirk toying at the corner of his lips, his eyebrows raising suggestively.

John wanted to kill him. Morning sex with the promise of many more rounds to come _and_ it was bareback? John could see how red Roger rapidly got and laughed, laying back down on the bed. “I’m on a really good birth control right now, you know. Don’t worry,” he said, his eyes crinkling.

“Are you?” Roger chuckled, tossing the condoms onto the floor where his pants lay abandoned and forgotten. John nodded, erupting into snorts and titters.

“That’s good, you cheeky thing. Wouldn’t want to get you pregnant or anything,” Roger hummed as he got in between a giggling John’s legs, the lube now the center of his attention. He grabbed the bottle, making a show of pouring out a generous amount onto two fingers. John’s laughing died down, watching intently as the thick lube coated Roger’s digits, licking his lips greedily.

Roger looked over to John and smiled, wriggling his fingers to coat them evenly. “This bottle is much lighter than the last time I got to use it,” Roger said, his voice smooth and husky, scooting closer to John. The burn in John’s crotch grew to a fever pitch, his limbs beginning to shake under that blue-eyed gaze. “Tell me exactly what you’ve been doing while I’ve been gone,” Roger said, guiding on of John’s legs up and bent, a slick finger pressing up against John’s entrance.

John sucked in a deep breath of air, not too pleased about the change of pace. He looked up at the ceiling, and as he sighed, said, “A lot of things.”

They both inhaled sharply when Roger pushed his finger in, John’s eyes going half lidded at the feeling of his own tightness.

“What kind of things?” Roger asked, twirling his finger inside of John before pushing it out and back in.

John’s mind was starting to pulse, every part of him too sensitive for this kind of teasing. Stuttering and fumbling over his words, John stammered out, “T-Touching myself. A lot. All the time.”

There was a rumbling in Roger’s chest, like a laugh that didn’t quite make it out. “Yeah? Touching your cock? Wanking yourself until you came over and over again?”

“Y-Yes,” John mewled.

“I don’t think that’s all,” Roger whispered, pulling out his finger only to push back into John with two.

John panted, gripping onto the bedsheets to stop himself from jerking into Roger’s hand. “Fingered myself too. Ah. God. Yeah. Didn’t even have to touch my prick. Came so hard. Thinking about you every time. Hmm.”

“Did you? What about me?” Roger curled his fingers in search of that sweet spot he loved to tease.

“Shit. Yeah. You fucking me. Your cock in me. N-Need it. Kept thinking about you cumming in me. How your spunk would feel. Mm. Oh-“ John’s back arched off the bed when Roger found his spot and gave it a firm rub. “G-God. Don’t do that. I won’t last,” he said, his voice quivering. His endurance was abysmal. He didn’t want it to be over so soon.

Not one to take orders, Roger brushed past the spot again, smirking when it drew out a high-pitched moan from John. After he took a deep breath, John squirmed around a bit and glared at Roger. This was going to end quickly if he kept that up. “I won’t-“

Roger shushed him up with a few pumps of his fingers. John’s hand flew to cover his face, another moan echoing out from them. “I don’t care how long you last, Deacy. Just relax, okay? This is also ridiculously hot, I’ll have you know,” Roger said as he withdrew from inside John. John peeked out from his hand to see if Roger was bullshitting him. From how big his pupils were and how deep his blush was, John would say Roger was telling the truth. His stomach knotted up.

“I won’t tease you anymore, though,” Roger continued, grabbing a pillow to put under John’s hips. “Gonna fuck you so good, John. Just how you like it. Nice and deep,” he said, almost breathless with impatience. Once John was settled on the pillow, he grabbed the lube, slicking up his weeping cock. Placing a hand on either side of John’s head, he took in the sight for a minute, simply in awe. John had his legs swung over his shoulders and he could feel them trembling with want. For Roger and Roger only. John’s hair was a mess, a distressed halo surrounding his scarlet red face. His lips were puffy and his eyes misty, almost to the point of tears, so ready for Roger to be buried inside of him.

Roger positioned himself, ready to give John exactly what he needed when he thought briefly about how this would look like in some months’ time. A swollen tummy between them. Hip bones that didn’t jut out so much. An undeniable softness to the brunet. The mental image made him dive into that warmth in between John’s legs, Roger’s eyes already rolled back.

It felt like their first time all over again.

John was heart breakingly tight, him only having had his fingers to get him through their dry weeks apart. And he was hot. Without the condom’s barrier between them, John’s heat made Roger’s knees wobble. Pushing into John felt brand new and intoxicating.

John stiffened some as Roger slowly entered him but didn’t complain. The feeling of stretching around Roger’s cock was brilliant. The corners of his vision were already dancing with stars. His arms and legs continued to shake with how good this felt, almost like a virgin.

“Good?” Roger struggled to ask, having pushed almost all the way inside of John.

John made an affirmative noise, wiggling his hips. Unlike their first time, he didn’t want to go slow. He was ready to ride this horse again full speed. “Just go,” he breathed, his heart thrumming in his chest.

This was the moment Roger had been waiting for. To fuck John down into the mattress until he couldn’t speak. Until he came so hard, he couldn’t move for hours. Until he couldn’t walk for days.

But looking down on him, he was so beautiful. His cheeks were radiating. His skin shimmered. His eyes were like stained glass windows.

The bull inside Roger died and was replaced with something soft and tender. He wanted to worship John. Kiss every inch of him. Kiss him slowly. Make love to him. Tell him how lovely he was the whole way through. He want-

“Please. Move,” John said in a tiny voice, his body at it’s breaking point. His fingers brushed against Roger’s jaw, thinking Roger might be afraid to go rough with him now that he was pregnant. “I’m not made of glass.”

Roger shook his head and nodded. What he wanted didn’t matter. And how he felt didn’t matter too. He just wondered if John would be doing this if he knew how Roger felt for him.

Obediently, he moved his hips back, John groaning contently. “Thank you,” he whispered, his head lolling to the side, ready for Roger to ruin him.

Roger smiled weakly, willing to raging bull to come back and give John want ne needed.

His hips snapped forward, John gasping at the pang of pleasure that exploded inside him. He had missed this so much.

Roger pulled out and thrust back in, trying to find a pace that would keep John panting.

Seeing a blissed out look on John’s face was all Roger get through this. John deserved to have his every sigh and moan treated like the gospel truth. For Roger to fall before him on his knees. But if this was what he wanted; Roger could do that too. He would do that. And he’d be fine. He’d be okay.

This was okay.

Roger rammed himself into John, his ears buzzing with the beautiful noises John was making. John’s toes curled, his thighs trembled, his pupils blowing out as his skin prickled with every expert move from Roger. _“Yes, yes, yes. G-God. Keep going_,” he babbled, clenching himself tightly around Roger until the blond let out a shaky groan.

“Fuck,” was all Roger could say, letting his brain go blank. He simply felt. And everything felt fantastic.

John let out a yelp, his body jerking off the bed when Roger brushed up against his spot. Electricity filled his insides, his hips beginning to rock back to Roger’s tempo, the bed starting to creak, the headboard smacking against the wall.

Roger angled himself to keep hitting John’s prostate, his hands fisting the bed sheets on either side of John’s head. “_So good, Deacy. So good_,” he puffed, pushing himself as deeply as he could into John.

“_Rog. Rog. Rog,”_ John mumbled over and over again, like a chant, squeaking and growling scattered in between. Roger always filled him up so good. Made him feel full. Fucked him so hard. John couldn’t take it anymore. His hand went to his cock, pumping it frantically. It dribbled all over his stomach, his muscles tensing up more and more.

Roger took that as a cue to go faster. Rougher. The sound of skin slapping against skin could’ve woke the neighbors up. Or John’s high-pitched cries. All of which were his name. His spine was on fire.

John’s back was practically off the bed, his breath erratic, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his fiery skin. He wanked himself faster, as Roger hit his spot with. Every. Single. Thrust. He didn’t want to cum too fast, but this was too damn magnificent. He closed his eyed tightly, willing himself to last a little longer.

“Cum, John. Let go. Cum for me,” Roger whispered, sweat pouring down his neck, seeing John struggling to let himself go. “It’s okay. Be a good boy and cum for me,” he added, hoping that would enough to convince him.

It was.

John let go.

His vision exploded with white, his cells bursting into flames, his limbs attacked with a surge of heat. A sob wracked through his body as his core disintegrated into nothing. Roger continued to fuck fast and vigorously through his high, his hand still stroking himself unsteadily through the mind ripping pleasure.

John’s hips bucked with every thick rope of cum that came out of him, his voice going hoarse as he cried incoherently, his eyes leaking with tears. “_Oh fuck. Oh my god! Roger. Rog! Holy fuck. My god. Oh my god. Rog!_”

John was destroyed. Once the orgasmic aftershocks died down, he laid limply against the bed, his eyes staring at Roger but miles away.

Roger was in awe. John had never come so hard in his life. There was a ludicrous amount of cum on his stomach, his body rosy, his legs sliding off of Roger, no strength to hold themselves in place anymore.

He slid out of the spent man, completely forgetting about his own orgasm. He leaned down to stroke John’s cheeks, wiping away his tears and kissed his forehead. “Look at you. So good, John. Such a good boy. Perfect,” he cooed to a John still in an orgasmic daze.

He piled a near lifeless John into his arms, pecking his sweaty temple and rocked him some, trying to keep him warm until he ‘woke’ up. John just sniffled and laid his head against Roger’s shoulder, spaced out, shivering and jerking every so often.

“You did fantastic, Deacy. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant,” he said, rubbing John’s goosebump lined arm.

It took nearly ten minutes for John to come back down to earth. Softly, he said, “Wow,” regaining some of his composure as he sat up straight.

“Thought I lost you there for a second,” Roger said, chuckling, giving John a firm squish.

“Me too,” John said, wiping his forehead dry. “Christ.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” Roger bowed his head as if taking a bow for his work. John snorted, his breath finally steady and even.

“Don’t get too cocky. It’s the hormones,” John said, only contrary because he didn’t want Roger’s head getting big. Bigger than it already was.

Roger guffawed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Deaks. Now let’s get you cleaned up. You look proper wrecked.” He squeezed John’s middle gently.

“What about you?” John asked, glancing at Roger’s crotch, his dick still at attention.

Roger waved a hand. “Trust me when I say I have enough material for myself later tonight.” John blushed.

♚

John’s body sagged against Roger’s in the tub, the warm water rippling around them. Bubbles floated by, accompanied by their occasional pleased sigh.

Roger had his hand on top of John’s soaking wet head, massaging his scalp lightly. John hummed happily, his eyes closed, absolutely prepared to fall asleep in the tub.

“Hey. You can nap after breakfast. You haven’t eaten,” Roger said, his voice echoing weirdly in the bathroom.

“Hmm. Later.”

“Seriously. After that exercise, you need something.”

John wriggled stubbornly and whined. “Laterrr.”

“Later my bum. We’ve got…things to do anyways,” Roger said, not wanting to ruin such a wonderful morning with serious uncomfortable talk, but it had to be done. He went to unplug the drain when John pulled his hand out of the water.

“Wait!” He chirped, his eyes big, his eyelashes clumped together by the water.

“What?” What excuse would he make up now?

“I’ve got to do something,” John said innocently, but the smirk on his lips made Roger wary.

“Do what?” He asked, eyeing John cautiously. John was a tricky guy. Could never be trusted when he looked mischievous.

“This,” John said easily, sloshing the water all around as he sat himself down on Roger’s lap. “I’m gonna finish you off. Make you feel good too,” he crooned. He didn’t like to leave Roger without an orgasm. Friends didn’t leave friends unfinished.

Before Roger could say anything, John’s hands snuck themselves around his dick, squeezing it firmly. Roger’s mouth popped open, a short gasp coming out of him like a cough. John flashed a gap-toothed smile.

“Y-You don’t have to…” Roger stuttered, struggling to find a grip on the porcelain tub.

“Shh. Let me take care of you,” John said with a giggle. An evil giggle if you asked Roger.

John used one hand to rub the length of Roger’s shaft, using the other to lightly cup and caress his balls, paying attention to massage the base too. Roger gurgled something, his hips shuddering at John’s slow pace.

John pressed his cheek into Roger’s shoulder, his mouth faced inwards so he could lazily whisper into Roger’s ear all the things that riled him up. “I wanna make you feel good, Rog. Make you cum all over my hand.”

“You always make me feel good,” Roger spluttered, his cock leaking precum. There was something about John looking so maternal but talking so dirty that went straight to his dick. He was a minx and he knew it.

Roger’s head tilted back, his eyes closing as John went a little bit faster, his other hand going to rub his tip in circles. He let out a strangled moan, John moaning right back into his ear. He _was_ trying to kill him.

“_Jesus, John_,” he panted, the water splashing as he bucked his hips up into John’s fist.

“Mhm. Let it out, Rog. I treat you so good. _Fuck_. So good,” John continued in that sultry voice of his, peppering in moans to throw Roger over the edge.

Roger panted and thrust, his eyes locked on John’s. John wouldn’t be the only one ruined if he kept up this delicious show up.

“You fucked me so good, Roger. I’ll be sore for days. Your big cock did that. Show me how big of a load you would’ve blown in me,” John said, pumping Roger faster, his thumb rubbing up and down Roger’s slit.

Roger could barely breathe. His brain was mush. His arms and legs couldn’t stop twitching. He’d never gotten a hand job like this before. What the hell had pregnancy done to his meek little John?

“God. Wanted to cum in you so bad. Fill you up. H-Have my spunk leaking down your thighs. Fuck,” Roger hissed, the tightness in his balls letting him know he only had seconds left. He never came this fast. _What the hell._

John worked Roger faster, going quiet to concentrate but continuing to moan as if this felt just as good to him as it did Roger.

“Deacy. _Deacy_, I’m gonna cum,” Roger said, practically gasping for air.

“I want you to cum so bad. Cum for me, Roger,” John whined.

Roger did exactly as he was told. Cum spurted out of his cock, his hips rocking helplessly as a cry scraped itself out of his throat. His face went scrunched as his crotch bursted with pleasure.

Ropes and ropes came out of him as John pumped him hard and fast and continued to do so until it there was nothing but a weak dribble. Roger’s legs shook, his head dizzy with the sudden loss of blood flow. He could barely see, barely hear. Everything tingled.

When his senses returned to him, he saw John smiling at him prettily. “Jesus,” he rasped.

“Yeah. You’re welcome,” John said, laughing. Roger rolled his eyes.

“What happened to you?” He asked, still utterly limp as he reclined against the tub, struggling to catch his breath.

John shrugged. “Hormones.”

_Yeah fucking right._

John went to work cleaning himself off, his hands and hair, and cleaning Roger up too as he recovered. Once he was finished, he snuggled back up into Roger’s chest, as if nothing happened.

“Wanna get breakfast now?” He asked, looking up at the blond.

“Fuck you,” Roger wheezed, completely spent. John cackled.

♚

John nibbled on his toast, praying his stomach wouldn’t reject it. Roger sat before him, sluggishly sipping on some orange juice.

“So…” John said awkwardly, swinging his feet.

“John. I can’t look at you right now. I feel like a slut,” Roger said, staring down into his plate of food. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was in love with John or because he was treated like a real whore some moments ago, but…he really could not look John in the eyed. They both erupted into giggles.

“Well, get over it. We have things to talk about.”

“T-Talk? You bloody **broke** my brain. Tomorrow. _Please_.”

John looked a little smug. “Fine. Tomorrow…” He got quiet before beaming brightly. “But when’s round two?”

“**_ROUND TWO?!”_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How would John act if he knew Rog was in love with him? *pondering emoji*


End file.
